


Chaos Is My Second Home

by BetsyByron



Series: We Were Meant to Make a Thing or Two [3]
Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bisexual Character, Boggarts, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Canon Rewrite, Coming Out, Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Draco Malfoy is Bad at Feelings, Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship, Gay Character, Gender Identity, Good Dudley Dursley, Good Petunia Evans Dursley, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nightmares, Plot Twists, Potions Accident, Pre-Slash, Rewrite, Sexual Orientation, The Marauder's Map, Time Turner (Harry Potter), Trans Character, Transitioning, Transphobia, Trials, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 07:15:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 82,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30102258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BetsyByron/pseuds/BetsyByron
Summary: Hal starts his third year at Hogwarts and on the whole, things are going really well. Except for those few things that go really wrong.Book 3, in which there's trials, escape murderers, Animagi, danger and bravery. And mostly boys trying to figure their way through being 13 and having lots of feels.(Canon-divergent rewrite of the books, if Vernon Dursley and Lucius Malfoy (independently of each other) had died some years before the start of the story.)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Series: We Were Meant to Make a Thing or Two [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815517
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	1. July

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back, my readers!
> 
> A word of warning that chapters will be a little inconsistent in length and plot content, and may feel at times like I’ve not explored some aspects of the story. I reached a point where I had 7 chapters left and 3 weeks to write them before giving birth, so I did what I could to deliver before hiatus! Depending what the future holds, I might try to come back on this and tidy it all up properly. Comments and suggestions are welcome!
> 
> This has not been beta'ed will be posted quickly, so apologies for errors, but also if you want to wait before reading, the whole thing will be up by tomorrow (Thursday 18th) 9pm GMT at the latest.
> 
> A few notes to understand references if you are a new reader, though I would recommend reading the first two installments before you crack on with that one. 
> 
> \- Vernon Dursley dies when Harry and Dudley are four. It kicks Petunia into wanting to take better care of her sister's son, and she raises Harry with as much love as Dudley. She is a great mother, the boys are thick at thieves and they go by Hal and Ley.  
> \- Lucius Malfoy dies when Draco is six. Without his father's constant "I know best" attitude, he grows up thinking for himself a lot more and turns out less of a posh racist entitled git.  
> \- I also modernised the whole thing by 10 years, because it suited me. Hal got a mobile phone out of it. 
> 
> SPOILERS BELOW THIS POINT
> 
> \- Draco is sorted in Ravenclaw - he loves books and he has been seeking his own knowledge and references to fill the hole left by his father.  
> \- He rooms with Anthony Goldstein who is fully part of their close group of friends: them two Ravenclaws and the four Gryffindors, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville (Neville deserves love).  
> \- They have also become friends with Pansy, who is transgender and thus gets called Pan. He is looking to start his transition.  
> \- Blaise is the only Slytherin so far who knows about it, he's okay with it, and he satellites around their group of friends too.  
> \- Snape is Draco's godfather and it makes him a little nicer to Hal when Draco calls him out on his prejudice.  
> \- Hal has a cat! Sorry for the fans of Hedwig. His name is Little John Silver and he's the cutest little silver tabby.  
> \- Though friendly, they are not close friends with Hagrid as he didn't personally come to take care of Harry.  
> \- Hal isn't as close to Dumbledore either and certainly doesn't trust him as much. No bashing, but they all think he's shady.  
> \- Petunia and Narcissa became friends at the end of the previous year (the friendship I never knew I needed to happen until I started writing this verse).
> 
> I think that's it for general understanding but do let me know in the comments if some things don't make sense :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Tienmans and the rest of Hal and Ley’s friends are OCs, and they’re only there as background characters and for plot purposes.
> 
> Warning for a bit of dub-con in this chapter, with an OC.
> 
> Also warning for a passing racial slur.

Hal knew he still should overdo it, but he  could tell  his relationship with Ley was suffering from their time apart during the year, and they both felt like there wasn’t a minute of the summer holidays to waste when they could be getting up to their usual shenanigans –  so to be honest, he wasn’t saying no to anything, as long as he could get away with it with his aunt .  He paid for it sometimes in the evening, collapsing into bed sore and drained and feeling like he could sleep for a year, but he wouldn’t trade Ley’s happiness for the world. And he needed some sort of ‘back to normal’ himself, after this year.

Also, surely a pool party wasn’t too much exertion, right? Harry Tienman was hosting – Hal and Ley had known him since kindergarten, he was one of the Harrys that had made Hal’s nickname necessary (his was already short for Harold) and he'd invited all the old crew, Jeremy, Mike and Andy. It was great getting together with their childhood schoolmates again, they felt like they had some of their old mojo back. Some of them were still going to the same school as Ley, and the day before the party, the two boys spent hours elaborating stories about Hal’s special boarding school. 

Some of the suggestions had gotten so ridiculous they were both choking with laughter by the end of it. In the end, they’d settled on the fact Hal had gotten a scholarship for the school’s special art program, and would a single mother with two kids like Mrs Dursley really pass on free tuition fee to a fancy school.

“So, you a posh lad now?” One of their mates asked.

“I’ll show you posh.” Hal replied before pushing him into the pool.

That was pretty much the end of that conversation. A kid they also knew from their childhood, but were less close to, suggested art was gay, but after Ley _accidentally_ elbowed him in the stomach and made him throw up his barbecue, that was the end of that one too. The rest of their friends had seen Hal’s drawings and thought he could be like Banksy, and now that guy was _cool_.

Hal had a slightly harder time explaining away his new scar. His old school friends were used to the one on his forehead, even if he kept it mostly concealed, they’d spent enough of their earlier years together that they knew it was there and that Hal had gotten it in the car accident that had killed his parents (the official story). But while splashing around in their swimsuits, they didn’t fail to notice the fresh one on his arm.

“Mate, how did you get that?”

“I got stabbed.” Hal deadpanned.

Which might have been able to fly, and wasn’t even that far off from the truth. Unfortunately, Ley answered at the exact same time.

“He got shot.”

An oversight on their part not to have prepared that answer, but their mates laughed it o ff as one of their pranks.

“Your school sounds safe.”

“You have no idea.” Hal snorted.

“No, but for real?”

Hal sighed, like the ‘truth’ was embarrassing to tell. 

“Climbed a tree.” He said. “Fell off the tree. A branch went right through my arm. It was ugly.”

That seemed to do it, and Hal and Ley exchanged a relieved look when the rest of them moved on. They weren’t that interested, to be honest – beyond the catching up, Hal was not, in fact, the main event at this party. Which was quite refreshing, if you asked him. No, the real excitement was _the twins_. Harry Tienman's father had had a previous marriage in Germany to a stunning model, resulting in twins who lived with their mother. The stunning model had a fashion event or other lined up, and rather than leave two fifteen year-olds alone in Munich for the whole summer, she’d shipped them over to England and their father.

The last time Francezka and Nils Tienman had been seen around here, they’d been twelve – beautiful children, with their blond hair, bright skin and brighter eyes, but twelve. Harry and his friends at the time were barely ten and not really interested. Now, though, Hal and his friends were thirteen or bordering it, _very much_ starting to look at girls, and the twins were in full bloom – Fran was practically a woman and she definitely took after her mother.

“She’s so hot.” Andy said dreamily, probably for the fifth time, when Harry T. was out of earshot.

The other boys nodded enthusiastically, Hal among them, and he did agree – but he also found his gaze drawn to Nils more than he’d admit. Or maybe to the picture they painted together, all their glorious German gorgeousness doubled as they stood side by side, looking both similar and different enough to be alluring. It was like being in front of the ice cream counter and checking out all the flavours that all looked more delicious than the next, when your aunt had just repeated to you that you were only allowed one scoop, even if you tried to argue – _But I can’t choose!_

He didn’t mention it, of course.  Maybe their close friends were cool enough not to think art was gay, but they’d definitely think looking at another boy this way was gay; and Hal did not particularly want to find out what they’d make of that.  Plus, he didn’t really see the need to think about it too hard or make a decision of any kind. He didn’t feel read to explore what sex could entail just yet, were it with a boy or a girl.

O f course it turned out Hal wasn’t as subtle in his glances as he thought he was, and it was very lucky that the twins stuck together for a vast majority of the time, because when his friends started teasing him, at least they mistook who he’d been checking out.

“Hal has  _ such  _ a crush on your sister.” Jeremy snickered towards the end of the day, when they were all collapsed by the side of the pool  with a cold drink ,  pleasantly tired .

“No I don’t.” Hal defended himself immediately.

“Mate.” Ley did  _ not _ come to his aid. “You’ve been staring at her, like, all day.”

“Oh, like you haven’t.” Hal guffawed. “Andy’s the one who keeps making  wounded  puppy sounds every time she moves.  _ She so hot. _ ” He mimicked in a whimper. “ _ She so pwetty. _ ”

Andy shoved him as they all laughed, though Harry  T ’s laugh was a bit strained.

“You’re all gross.” He told them. “ And you should all stop, because Nils will probably murder you if you get close. Just saying.”

“ Hal, Ley!” Harry’s father called from the house. “Your mom’s here!”

“ Gotta go.” Ley said as they both jumped to their feet. “Wave goodbye to your lover.”

“Bugger off.” Hal replied – and forced himself to not glance back at where Francezka and Nils were sitting.

T hey made their way into the house to find their clothes  and get collected – they had walked ther e earlier, but it took about forty-five minutes, so when Hal’s aunt had offered to drive them back, they hadn’t refused.

“Oh, Ley.”  She  sighed when  she caught sight of them . “What did I say about sun cream?”

“Hal didn’t use any  either !” Ley immediately pointed his finger at his cousin.

“ Unlike you,  Hal  _ tans _ .” Petunia reminded him with a long-suffering sigh, gesturing herself at Hal’s golden skin, contrasting with Ley’s lobster-red  complexion . “We’ve talked about this.”

L ey decided to go with  his favourite strategy  for getting out of an argument : ignore her. “Can we come back tomorrow?” He asked.

Hal’s aunt raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Have you been invited?”

“ It’s fine, Mrs Dursley.” Harry intervened, him and the others having followed shortly after Hal and Ley. “Dad said I could have friends over to enjoy the pool whenever. Right dad?”

“It’s alright.” Mr Tienman confirmed. “We might as well make the most of this nice weather, who knows how long it’ll last!”

“That is very kind of you.” Petunia smiled at him. “But not tomorrow, Ley. Your aunt is coming to dinner.”

Ley made a face. His father’s sister, Aunt Marge, didn’t visit very often, but neither of the boys liked it when she did – Hal even less than Ley, as at least the woman doted on her actual nephew. She had nothing but scorn and slurs to offer Hal.

Upon a warning look from his mother, however, Ley did not voice his obvious disappointment, and they said their goodbyes to their friends promising they’d meet up again soon enough.

* *

*

Draco  wrote to Hal every day, sometimes several times a day. He didn’t send all the letters – because Hal would answer every single one of them,  with the same hint of desperation Draco felt,  which he knew would be veering into the territory of co-dependency. And while  Hal wasn’t a possessing evil maniac, Draco was pretty sure one co-dependent relationship was enough for a year, possibly for a lifetime. 

Writing to Hal did uncomfortably remind him of writing in the diary, but at least his parchment wasn’t sentient and didn’t answer back, so Draco could just picture Hal’s smile and his stupid hair and bright green eyes at the other end, and it made him feel better.

T hey told each other about the nightmares. So far, Draco hadn’t had a single night without one, and from what Hal had written back, neither had he. Hal tried to joke about it – how his aunt must go through her coffee  reserves  quicker than usual these days and how his cousin was just about ready to club him over the head  if he woke him up one more time – but they both knew it wasn’t good.

Severus had told Draco they would fade, that they both would get over the shock, and that things would be much easier when they had fully recovered their strength,  both physical and phycological. On that front, b eing alone at home with only his mother, the house elves and Sev’s occasional visit wasn’t good for Draco, because he didn’t have much else to do but think about the even ts of the last few days of term.  E ven if  he felt much better now and his magical core was pretty much back to normal, it would probably take the entire summer for  him to feel a hundred percent again. 

He knew it’d be the same for Hal, though from his latest letter, he seemed to at least be partaking in some Muggle activities with his old school friends (Draco hadn’t entirely understood the concept of a ‘tenpin bowling’ but he’d gathered it was a fun thing to do) that provided him with a welcome distraction. Draco would have equally needed one, but  he  still  refused his mother’s offer to invite some friends over. By friends, he knew she  mostly  meant other Pureblood children  who lived nearby or just a Floo call away , and he couldn’t deal with them right now –  except Pan, but he had his own issues to deal with at the moment.  A s far as Draco kn e w,  he  was still trying to figure out a way to come out to his parents .  He needed to spend as many waking hours with them as possible looking for the right moment.

Of the  other  people  Draco did  want to see, well,  he knew Hal was spending some much needed time with his family, after the school year and before spending part of their holidays in France together, and taking a bit of a break from magic to help his recovery; similarly for Hermione, she seemed to be quite keen to have “Muggle holidays” and spend  them with her parents just as she used to; Anthony was taking care of his little sister as both his parents were working;  Draco knew Neville would just not ask his grandmother, who had very strong opinions about the Malfoys (probably all dating back to when they were formed the 1950’s and unchanged since);  and  Ron was in Egypt, a family trip the Weasleys had decided to take to visit Ron’s big brother Bill, after winning the Grand Prize Galleon Draw from the  _ Daily Prophet _ .

A nd speaking of the  _ Prophet _ , one thing that certainly hadn’t helped Draco’s stress levels was reading all about Sirius Black escaping Azkaban. However he had managed that, it was nothing reassuring, and Draco had had nightmares th e night  after first reading the news  that for once, didn’t have giant snakes chasing him or Hal lying dead and bloodied on the floor, but instead a crazed murderer coming to get him. He’d still woken up in a cold sweat, nauseous and a strangled scream stuck in his throat.

Draco’s mother hadn’t commented, though he’d seen her lips purse slightly as she was reading about her cousin on the paper’s front page, and he’d not dared try and discuss it with her. He decided not to mention it to Hal either, in the letters he did send him. He didn’t know if Hal had heard about it – he obviously didn’t subscribe to the  _ Daily Prophet _ , but the latest news were that Black was so dangerous they were issuing warnings in the Muggle press as well – but whenever he remembered the one and only conversation they’d had about the man who had been James Potter’ best friend, he felt like it would be best not to bring it up.

On the other hand, didn’t Hal deserve to know this one rather important element in the story of what had happened to his parents? This wasn’t public knowledge, but enough people knew and remembered the even t s of twelve years ago – Draco himself had heard his mother talk about it on the Floo,  when he must have been maybe sever or eight, to a distant cousin who now lived in Italy.  And w ith Black out and about, it was probably only a matter of time until  Hal found out  the ugly truth – Sirius had been James’ best friend, and he had betrayed him and his wife in the worst way possible. 

Either way, Draco wasn’t going to put that in a letter. But he was going to have to think about whether he wanted to tell Hal – if he was going to find out, Draco thought maybe it would be better coming from him – and when. Summertime in France did not seem like an adequate place and time for it. Maybe on their way back to Hogwarts? It would feel like lying in the meantime, every minute he’d spend with Hal. But Draco hoped Hal would forgive him for that and understand he’d wanted to spare the holidays.

“Draco?” A soft knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts, and he turned to see his mother smiling softly at him, two pieces of parchment in her hand.

“Another letter from Aunt Andromeda?” He guessed.

The two sisters had been exchanging owls ever since Narcissa had reached out. Andromeda had been wary at first, but when it had become clear her sister was sincere, she had been more than eager to make up for lost time.

“Yes.” Draco’s mother confirmed. “And this one’s for you.”

She handed him one of the sheets, which Draco could see was written in the same neat handwriting as the other.

_Dear Draco,_

_Your mother had told me a lot about you in the past couple of weeks and I cannot tell you how impatient I am to meet you. I was always regretful that falling outs between adults prevented children like you and your cousin to meet and grow up together. Dora of course shares my enthusiasm and cannot wait to show you and your friends around. Your mother used to love France – I know she still does – and I am sure you will to._

_Dearly looking forward to your arrival,_

_All my love,_

_Your Aunt Andromeda_

“This is nice of her.” Draco commented.

“She’s right.” His mother nodded thoughtfully. “I am sorry I took that away from you – the opportunity to have more family. You are an only child, and after Lucius… it shouldn’t have mattered what choices Andy made, I should have realised that sooner. They are our only close relatives, now.”

Draco had a brief thought for his Aunt Bellatrix, but We Did Not Talk About Bellatrix Lestrange any more than We Did Not Talk About Sirius Black. At least it wasn’t  _ her _ who had escaped from Azkaban, he thought with a shudder. The news about his mother’s cousin might have given him nightmares, but from what information he had heard and collected about her eldest sister over the years, Sirius Black’s antics were  almost child play in comparison.

“ I understand.” Draco assured her – and he did. 

He was still amazed she had even changed her mind at all, so it wasn’t like it felt long overdue to him.  He knew his mother had always tolerated and navigated Pureblood society with graceful ease, but she didn’t have any real friends. Seeing her interact with Hal’s aunt was the first time Draco had felt like she could truly have one, and having her sister back on board was another step against her isolation. In his opinion, things were looking up.

Feeling cheerful for the first time since the holidays had started, he grabbed a quill.

“I’ll reply to her right away.”

* *

*

Hal had tried not to think about  the beautiful German twins , because he found it confusing as hell, but as fate would have it, he was forced to face his own internal  identity crisis . 

The next day, on the condition they would be back before 3pm to help her make sure everything was ready for dinner with Aunt Marge, Petunia let the boys go and play in the park – Ley couldn’t get enough of the new football he’d received for his birthday.

It was a hot day, probably even hotter than the previous day – making the boys feel even more gutted they couldn’t be by the pool. The kind of heat that would make _The_ _Sun_ start popping out outrageous front pages about the probable end of times, people worry about a hosepipe ban and little old ladies comment that it wasn’t like that back in 1957\. 

So naturally, after half an hour of playing, they were both  dying from the heat , and Ley decided to run to the park café and buy them some ice lollies.  Hal sought some shade to wait for him, and found himself in a nice and cool little tree cove, where he challenged himself to throw the ball as far up as one selected branch, then another, higher and higher each time.

“Oh, hi.”

Startled, he missed the ball coming back down, which almost hit him in the face.  He let it roll uselessly at his feet as he found himself face to face with  Fran cezka and Nils. 

“ Harry, was it?” Fran smiled.

“Err, yeah.” He answered, flustered.

She was wearing a yellow and orange dress  in a flowery print , and her hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked absolutely lovely. Nils  smiled at him too, shiny teeth, hair  like sunlight , bright blue eyes, and Hal couldn't help but think  _ Shit, he’s hot _ as well.

“We noticed you yesterday.” Nils said.

“Did you?” Hal swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

“You were certainly the better looking of the lot.” Fran commented.

Nils rolled his eyes, but he kept grinning at Hal.

“We were pretty sure you’d noticed us too.” He added.

“Well.” Hal mumbled. “Everyone was looking at you.”

“Everyone was looking at _her_.” Nils argued. “You… you were looking at us.”

Hal didn’t think there was a point in arguing, so he just looked down at the ground churlishly.

“Hey.” Nils said softly.

Surprisingly cold fingers tipped his chin up, and the older boy  tilted his head to scoop Hal’s gaze up in his, smiling.

“We don’t mind.” He said.

Both twins were right up in his personal space now. Hal could smell Fran’s sweet perfume – or maybe just her shampoo – and Nils’ sweat, just a slight musky scent, nothing unpleasant, and he found himself short of breath. They really were beautiful, and if they kept looking at him like they might want to lick him for a minute longer, Hal might have to review his assumption that he wasn’t  particularly interested in exploring his sexual orientation yet.

“ Did you cho o se?” Fran asked sweetly.

“ Choose?” Hal repeated. He felt very hot, and it wasn’t only the weather.

“Which one of us you prefer.” She continued.

H al opened and closed his mouth uselessly, and both twins laughed lightly.

“You’re right, how can you choose.” Nils said. “It’s not like we’ve given you much to go by.”

“ Oh, no.” Fran pouted, falsely contrite. “There must be something we can do. Maybe this?”

And suddenly, she was kissing him, a moist press of her lips on his, her hand resting lightly by the side of his jaw, just about carding her fingers into the too-long locks of hair below his ear. She kept her hand there even as Nils cupped the other side of Hal’s jaw and leaned in, and Hal could only turn to him helplessly as his lips replaced his sister’s.

They both drew back, though remaining close with their hands on his neck, smirking.

“Again?” Fran suggested.

“Or me?” Nils challenged.

Both, Hal desperately wanted to say. Neither, he also wanted to say. He was hot, he was confused, and he didn’t want to play this game, though at the same time, the memory kept replaying of how Fran cezka had looked in her bikini, of the ripple of Nils’ back  muscles  when he pushed himself out of the pool, and he  _ couldn’t choose _ .  Didn’t want to have to choose. Them being both out of his league had removed the problem the day before, but now…

He sagged a little, feeling faint, and it happened to be towards Nils, who clearly took it as an answer as he grinned widely at his sister. Fran pursed her lips slightly as her hand fell back to her side, but then she shrugged, affecting indifference.

“Alright, fine.” She said. “You get him.”

She walked away, and Hal wanted to tell her not to go, but Nils’ other hand was suddenly on his hip, and he couldn’t say a word. The boy kissed him again, soft but insistent, and Hal could feel the tip of his tongue this time. He drew back again, smiling, lovely as anything.

“First time kissing a boy?” He asked him.

“Yeah.” Hal managed to answer in a breath.

Nils quirked an amused brow. “First time kissing a girl too?” He guessed.

Hal could feel himself blush, and Nils chuckled.

“I could tell you liked both.” He said. “It’s okay, I’m sure Fran wouldn’t mind spending a bit of time with you too, if you come back to visit.  You really are cute, you know.”

He lifted his hand to brush Hal’s hair out of his face, and Hal batted it away as a reflex.

“Sorry.” He floundered. “I-  have a scar there, I don’t-”

“It’s okay.” Nils repeated, pressing his lips against his again.

He backed him up a bit, until Hal’s spine was pressing against the tree, and Nils was pressing against him. He was taller and wider than him, and Hal suddenly felt scared. Where exactly was this going? Kissing was exhilarating, it was a novel experience and it had been completely unexpected, but as incredible as it was that Nils – and Fran! – could be up for it, exploring this further right there and then seemed to be going a little to far.

“Wait.” Hal tried to say.

Nils had leaned in again and was kissing the underside of his jaw. Both hands were now on Hal’s hips, sliding down and then back up in an almost subconscious stroking movement.

“Please, I don’t think-” Hal started again, but he was interrupted by his own startled gasp as Nils pressed against him with his entire body, his chest flushed against his, their knees knocking, and Nils’  _ groin – _ unmistakably interested.

“ I’m really horny.” Nils stated – obvious, thank you, Hal thought wryly. “Can you feel it? Summer always makes it worse, all these people barely dressed…”

He kissed Hal’s lips again, and pushed his lower body even closer. “You into this?” He asked. One of his hands moved from Hal’s hips to his crotch, and pressed down. “You are.” He grinned.

“ I don’t want to do this.” Hal heard himself whimper.

“It’s just a bit of fun.” Nils replied. “We can go somewhere more private.” He suggested. “Toilet?”

He didn’t wait for an answer and, peeling himself off of Hal, grabbed his wrist and started pulling him out towards the open field.

“Come on.” He smiled, like this was still just a nice game, obviously unable to see – or ignoring – the fact that Hal no longer wanted to play along.

“No.” Hal pulled back the other way.

“Oh, alright.” Nils kept grinning. “Bit of an exhibitionist in you? Kinky.”

He crowded Hal against the tree again, but Hal put a hand against his chest.

“I mean, no,  sorry, this is just a bit too sudden and I’m not sure…”

“Aw, come on.” Nils complained. “It’s no big deal.”

He tried to press forward again, but it only cemented Hal’s conviction that he wasn’t ready for this, not here, not now, not with this guy.

“Let me change your mind.” Niels insisted, putting his hands in Hal’s neck again and drawing him in for a kiss.

Hal turned his head, wanting to make it clear that he wouldn’t so easily be swayed, and… was suddenly face d to face with a large black dog, who barked loudly, making them both jump.

“Oh, hey doggy.” Nils greeted him, undeterred. “Shoo, we’re busy.”

“He must be with someone.” Hal seized the chance for a polite way out, even though he thought the dog looked rather like a stray. “We shouldn’t-”

“Go away.” Nils tried again.

But the dog barked again, and again, and actually started growling until Nils released Hal to find a stick on the ground.

“Hey.” He said enthusiastically when he’d grabbed one, waving it in the animal’s face. “Look at the nice stick. Go fetch!”

He threw the piece of wood, but in that time the dog had placed himself between the two boys, and he didn’t budge, only giving him Nils was seemed like an unimpressed look. Nils held out a hand for Hal.

“Hey, come on, let’s-” The dog barked again. “Harry, he looks dangerous, why don’t you-” Bark, bark.

“I think he likes me.” Hal replied calmly. “I’ll be alright.”

Nils threw his hands up in the air and muttered something that could have been  _ Oh, fuck this _ , or its German equivalent, and finally got the hint and left.

The dog’s stance immediately changed, as he turned to Hal happily, wagging his tail and smiling one of those toothy dog smiles. Hal let out a laugh, and patted the dog’s head.

“Thank you, mate.”

“ Was that Nils?” 

Ley’s voice made Hal turn around and his stomach clenched uncomfortably because  _ Oh,  _ _ God _ , a few moments earlier and he’d have arrived in the middle of a really awkward situation. He had a half-eaten ice cream in one hand, dripping on his fingers, and handed Hal the other wrapped one.

“Thought I saw him walk away.”

Hal shrugged, thinking he could pretend they hadn’t crossed paths and he didn’t know if it had been him at all, and pointed his chin at the dog instead. “I made a friend.”

They played with him until it was time to go back home to help Petunia, and get ready to face Aunt Marge.

* *

*

Petunia might have gotten into the habit of berating Hal and Ley for expressing obvious displeasure every time Marge came to visit, but it did not mean she enjoyed her sister-in-law’s presence in her home any more than they did. She would much rather have, that evening, spend a nice evening with her boys as they told her all about their adventures playing with a dog in the park and hunting for potion ingredients. (Even though Hal wasn’t to do magic over the holidays, he’d argued potions did not count as you didn’t need your wand. It was like cooking, he assured.)

At least, they had a great time before her arrival, as the boys helped her cook – well, Hal helped her cook, and Ley made a lot of mess. Even when he attempted to  _ clean _ , he seemed to make it worse, but he sure was excellent at making the whole thing a lot of fun.  Hal made a brilliant-looking cake, which they agreed to pretend was from an artisan bakery  nearby ; Hal, probably not unjustly, was convinced if they’d said he made it, Marge would find it disgusting (if she even tried it). 

“ Is she coming with a dog?” Ley asked, only a few minutes before she was due.

“You know she is.” Hal grumbled back. He had already taken care to lock Little John Silver in his room.

Petunia nodded defeatedly. Marge never went anyway without one of the beasts – and really, Petunia didn’t have anything against bulldogs at large, but Marge always seemed to bread the nastiest creatures. She always made some excuse regarding why she just couldn’t have left this or that one with her neighbour with the others.

“ How many does she have now?” Ley continued.

“A question you can ask your aunt.” Petunia raised as the doorbell rang. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted you’re showing interest.”

“Don’t even-” Petunia heard Hal start saying,  as both boys darted into the garden.

S he refrained from showing amusement,  schooling her features before  she opened the door to her dearest sister-in-law.

“ Petunia, dear.” Marge opened her arms for an unpleasant hug.

Her dog barked behind her, and Petunia now forced herself to smile.

“Marge, it’s so nice to see you. Come on in – the boys are out back.”

“How is my little Dudleykin, how is he?” Marge was already cooing as she barged past Petunia, bulldog on her heels, and made her way through the house to the door leading to the back garden.

Hal and Ley had tucked themselves as far away as possible, delaying the inevitable for a few further  moments; t hey were perched on the pile of stones that had been Petunia’s attempt at an alpine rock garden, one summer after they’d visited the botanical gardens in  Edinburgh , which had made a big impression on the boys.

“Good lord, he’s as brown as a Paki.” Marge commented upon spotting Hal.

“He tans easily, that’s all.” Petunia said defensively.

“Honestly, Petunia.” Marge said to her as if she’d had the poor taste to pick him out in a home furnishing store. “Are you sure he’s even British?”

“I think his great-grand-parents may have been Greek or Italian.” Petunia conceded non-committally.

She vaguely remembered one of Lily’s letters mentioning something like that – she’d honeymooned with James around the Mediterranean. Marge made a derogatory _Humph_ , but thankfully moved on as the boys came near, having exhausted the number of minutes they could pretend not to have noticed her arrival without being rude.

“Dudleykin!” Marge squealed as she enveloped Ley into a great big hug.

Ley did a really good impression of being delighted to see her – and really, Petunia knew he was in fact a little bit happy when she visited, as she  always brought some expensive gift for him or even slipped him some money, sometimes both.  Hal stayed carefully to the side, but it didn’t  save him  from receiving  a dirty look from the woman. Petunia wished she wasn’t so obvious in her dislike of the boy, at least of her and Ley’s sake, if not for Hal’s ( who had long stopped caring if she liked him or not). 

“ Alright?” She asked him quietly as the larger woman dragged Ley into the house, asking him  to tell her  about school and his friends and everything about him.

Hal shrugged. “It’s only dinner.” He reasoned.

Thank God, Petunia thought. When Vernon had been alive, he’d sometimes invited his sister to stay for a whole  _ week _ . She actually remembered now, with a shudder, how they had both taunted Hal once, jeering that he couldn’t walk properly – Marge’s bulldog kept running into him, knocking him over, though Hal simply got to his feet every time with the determination of any three year-old, even laughing at first thinking the dog wanted to play. They had even roped Ley into it, and when encouraged by his father, he’d start pushing Hal to the floor every chance he got (he also thought it was a game), Hal had stopped finding it funny. Cue the jabs about him being a crybaby. Petunia even remembered Marge suggesting maybe crawling on the floor was all he was good for.

“Are  _ you _ okay?” Hal asked her with a little frown.

She shook herself, realising she must have been staring at him vacantly for a moment with probably a slightly horrified look on her face. Bless him, he didn’t remember that time. At least she hoped he didn’t – because Petunia did not absolve herself, she remember she had laughed at the poor child too, at the time, going with the flow.

“ Yeah.” She smiled back at him, ruffling his hair and willing that all her love for that boy could erase her earlier misgivings. “Come on, let’s go in.”

“ Party time.” Hal sighed.

W hen they joined the others inside, Ley showed them, predictably, the new video game Marge had brought him for his birthday, the new  pair of trainers she had brought him for no reason at all, and several  large  Euro notes she had given him so he could “enjoy France properly”. 

“ And you don’t have to share this.” Marge felt the need to specify to Ley, not without casting Hal a nasty look.

“ Oh, Hal shares his money with me so I can do the same.” Ley replied without thinking. 

Marge immediately stiffened. “So he should.” She snarled. “That’s  _ your _ money, after all.” She rounded on Hal. “ I h ope you realise how much you’re taking from your cousin.  How much is sacrificed for you, to his detriment.  Poor Petunia working her hardest, and she has to split pocket money between you to protect your feelings. Of course you would just  _ take it _ .”

“ Actually, he did mean  _ my _ money.” Hal replied drily. “From my parents.”

“Ah!” Marge scoffed. “Like you have anything from your parents. What’s that lie you’ve been telling him now?” She asked, turning to Petunia. Without waiting for an answer, she looked back to Hal to continue her charge. “You parents died in a car crash and they had  _ nothing _ .”

“They didn’t die in a car crash.” Hal retorted, his eyes flashing.

Marge briefly showed surprised, which quickly turned to sneer again. “Told him the truth, have you?” She addressed Petunia again.

Petunia had a bad feeling about this. She had  had  no idea  that  Marge knew the car accident story was just that, a story, but she also didn’t doubt her idea of the reality of what had happened to Lily and James Potter had nothing to do with the actual truth. Vernon  had always been too horrified to tell her. But what had he  told her  then,  at the time?  Well , clearly Marge was on a roll, and she was about to find out.

“Yes,  _ boy _ .” The large woman spat at Hal. “Your parents did n o t die in a car crash. That would have been unfortunate. But not, they had to bring it on themselves.”

H al faltered a little, darting an uncertain look to Petunia who tried to communicate that no, there was no way she knew the actual truth.

“Junkies, that’s what they were.”

Oh.

“Overdosed, died in utter  _ disgrace _ .”

Oh no.

“ Left you with nothing but the  _ kindness _ and  _ charity _ of your betters. If Vernon-”

She suddenly interrupted herself as her voice had turned so high-pitched on the last word it had sounded like the squeal a dog makes when you step on their paw.  Petunia cast Hal a worried look – he was livid, his nostrils flared, and there was that electric feeling in the air she remembered from some bouts of accidental magic he’d occasionally manifested as a younger child. But Marge cleared her throat and carried on.

“They were parasites.” She asserted. “And that is what you are too. Leeching on your aunt’s generosity. Taking what belongs to your cousin.”

“ None of that is TRUE!” Hal shouted back.

A  photo frame on the mantelpiece cracked loudly, making Ley jump – he was watching the scene with what was starting to look like fear in his eyes – and Petunia grabbed Hal by the shoulders, pressed his back against her chest and wrapped her  arms around him. She almost put her hands over his ears, out of an instinct to protect him.

“Get out.” She said.

The steel in her voice seemed to immediately calm Hal down, judging by how the electric tension in the room dropped suddenly as the boy  stilled in her arms.

“Beg your pardon?” Marge blinked at her, bewildered.

“I said, get out.” Petunia repeated. “You are a guest here, and you are behaving like you own the place. Well, you don’t, and you are not longer welcome.”

She felt Hal relax, as if he’d believed for a second that the first  _ get out _ was addressed to him, just as Marge’s anger looked to flare up again.

“Now then, Petunia-”

“No, I’ve heard enough.” Petunia cut her short. “You are being  _ abusive _ to Harry, you look down on everything you see in  _ my house _ , and you insult everyone in your path.”

“I only insulted this worthless little-”

“Enough!”  Petunia shouted, just as Hal slipped from her arms and ran upstairs. Ley gasped, but he stayed where he was, frozen. “You are not only insulting him.” Petunia continued. “You are insulting my sister. You are insulting me and your nephew, who  _ love him _ .”

“You are soft.” Marge snarled. “You’ve let him trick you, a delinquent posing as a helpless boy, you-”

“You’re a bully.” Ley suddenly interrupted. “Leave my mom alone.”

Marge’s eyes went wide, but he added with determination. “Leave my brother alone. And just, like, leave.”

And with that, he left the room himself, going after Hal, giving his aunt a last spiteful look that oddly made pride swell in Petunia’s chest.

“You’ve heard the boy.” She concluded softly.

It took several more minutes and a lot of barking (both from Marge and her dog) to see them both out of the house, and by the time Petunia went upstairs, Ley was coming out of Hal’s room, looking worried and sad.

“He won’t talk to me.” He said.

“ Go heat up dinner.” She told him, planting a kiss on his head as he went past. 

In his room, Hal was sat in a ball on his bed, back against the wall, knees up, arms over his head. Petunia had seen the pose before – football try-outs at school when they were eight, for example, and Hal wasn’t sure he was good enough to make the team. This was Hal’s deep insecurities rearing their heads.

“ Darling.” She sat next to him, and started to pet his hair.

“She’s right.” Came Hal’s small,  woeful voice.

“How can you say that?” Petunia protested. “Of course she isn’t.”

“She is.” Hal replied, and this time it was followed immediately by a sob, and he started hiccuping as the words poured out, painful and scared. “She’s- right, I’m, I’m worthless and I’m  _ weird _ , and you love Ley more because he’s- you r son, but I, I only cause trouble and, and I’m different, I’m weird and I get into trouble and you have to- and I can’t- I’m not even normal-”

“Hal, stop it, stop!” Petunia called out, alarmed, trying to wrap her arms around the resisting bundle of limbs. “Darling.” She repeated, as soothing as she could make it. “ I love you so much. I love you as my own son, I love you just as much as I love Ley.”

“ I’m a freak.” Hal said wretchedly.

“ You’re magical.” Petunia retorted. She meant that as much figuratively as literally.

“All I give you is trouble.” Hal still seemed inconsolable.

“You’re brave and you stand up for what is right.” She told him. “You protect your friends. That’s worth a little bit of trouble.”

Hal sobbed again, and brokenly added something that sounded like ‘I think I might like boys’. Petunia didn’t dare ask him to repeat.  If that was what he’d said, maybe that was a discussion to save for another day.

“ Hal, there is nothing wrong with you.” She simply said firmly. “You are great just as you are, and I love you. Okay? Look at me.”

H al lifted his head, accepting to look at her with drowned green eyes. She  brushed some of the tears off his wet cheeks, some of the hair off his forehead to plant a kiss there.

“You’re perfect, and I love you. We both love you. Do you know what Ley told Marge?”

Hal shook his head, still looking miserable though he had minutely perked up.

“He told her she’s a bully, and to leave his brother alone.” Petunia reported.

Hal had a wet chuckle, and Petunia smiled.  There he was, finally.

“My silly boy.” She said tenderly. “Come on, let’s have dinner.”

He held her back, catching her sleeve as she started to stand.

“I almost did magic.” He reminded her sheepishly. “You… you’re not angry?”

“ No, darling, I’m not angry.” She assured him. “But you know you can’t get mad like that.”

“I know.” He looked down. “She was just being so… so…”

“I know, love.” Petunia kissed him on the forehead again. “She’s gone now.”

“It’s reaaaadyyyy!” Ley’s cheerful call sounded from downstairs.

Hal and his aunt both laughed as they look at each other.

“Ley’s stomach waits for no man.” Petunia teased.

“I’ll just go wash my face.” Hal nodded. “Be right down.”

Petunia watched him dart off.  Not for the first time, a little nag of worry settled in the pit of her stomach.  They were growing up so fast.  Was she really equipped to handle two teenage boys, with their pains and their doubts, and help them grown into men?

* *

*

On the morning of Hal’s birthday,  a pile of gifts had come to join the ones Petunia had placed on the kitchen table before going to bed (she’d left the window open purposefully to allow for owls coming in and out, even if the thought made her a little uncomfortable).  Hal was so excited he couldn't sit down – in fact, he was up at 6 am, and had already made two different types of muffins by the time Petunia came down. Surprisingly, Ley wasn’t far behind.

“It’s barely eight.” He pointed out to Hal. “I’m up. This is my birthday present to you.”

Hal scoffed and shook his head, knowing Ley would have gotten him something, and threw a chocolate muffin at him. Ley caught it and shoved it almost whole in his mouth.  Petunia decided she needed coffee before she  started  argu ing against his table manners.

Hal set out to opening his presents, still bouncing up and down, though his movements became more measured as he actually handled each wrapped gift, in case there was anything breakable inside the parcels.

His friends from Hogwarts had pooled together as they had for Draco in June (and Neville – they’d gotten him a book of gardening spells), deciding it was a nice way of doing things as they could buy larger, nicer presents this way. For Hal, they had found some “Translatoffee”, which were sweets that would apparently allow him to understand any language spoken around him – handy for a holiday in France. Hal and Ley shared one to test out if it worked on cats, which it didn’t, which didn’t stop them from making up an entire conversation with Little John Silver that left them crying with laughter.

There was an extra little gift from Draco, a small framed print of a Saint Michael painting by Raphael. The small winged figure was standing on a dragon, sword raised, looking nonplussed, almost like  he had just hopped onto the creature’s neck, no big deal. It made Hal chuckle.  _This made me think of you_ , the note accompanying it said.  _Maybe we can go and see the real one in the Louvre_ . Hal knew they were spending their holidays somewhere that was nowhere near Paris, but he supposed Wizarding France would be more quickly connected than Muggle France, if they wanted to pop there.

H al found a card from Narcissa as well, a delicately  embossed  picture – was that real silver? – of a white peacock on thick creamy paper, with the Malfoy crest on top. Inside read  _Happy birthday, Harry. You are welcome in our home any time and I am looking forward to seeing you again for the holidays._ Hal su spected it was a ‘thank you for saving my son’s life’ card as much as it was a birthday wish.

There was also a large, heavy and shoddily wrapped present, which Hal frowned at, wondering who it could be from, until he found a card. He did not recognise the ( atrocious ) handwriting, but he saw it was signed Hagrid.

_You childran saved me from goin to Azkaban last yer. Sank you. Im sendin each of yous this book, I sink you will find it usefool!_

_Hapee birthdae Harry, sea you at Hogwarts_

“Wow.” Ley commented. “Never seen an adult whose spelling was worse than mine.”

Hal opened his mouth to answer, but he was distracted as he tore off the paper and the book (book??) inside jumped up at him with a growl and tried to bite his face off. After a few minutes of battle, combined efforts from Hal and Ley had subdued the thing, and Petunia gave it a good few wraps of brown parcel tape to tie it shut. _The Monster Book of Monsters_ , the cover read. _What the hell_ , she very much refrained from saying.

“What the hell.” Hal and Ley both did not refrain from saying.

“Is there anything that isn’t dangerous with your lot?” Ley added. “Books that try to eat you, like, really?”

“I don’t know, man.” Hal shook his head helplessly. “This is weird for me too.”

He carefully put the… book aside, and turned back to the rest of his presents. From Ley, a recipe book full of fantastic-looking bakes (“This is a gift for you, isn’t it?” Hal called him out) and from Petunia, mostly clothes, Hal having outgrown a great part of his current wardrobe. She’d gotten him a new pair of jeans, dark blue and the current cool brand that boys seemed intent on having,  and a  couple of soft t-shirts (she’d noticed Hal had a little bit of a thing for soft fabrics). In addition, some cat treats and a little toy in the shape of a snake, which made Hal snort.

“Look.” He showed it to Sil. “You won’t need a sword for this one.”

H e made it wriggle, and the cat immediately pounced on it. Hal beamed at Petunia, and got up for a hug.

“I love all of it.” He told her.

They headed out after breakfast.  They had agreed not to have a party with all their friends this year, since they were leaving for France the  next morning – an d that sounded more of an adventure than it actually was, because really what they were doing was walk half a mile to a Portkey Narcissa had arranged for them to reach the Manor, from where they would Floo to her sister’s house after a spot of lunch. However, Petunia had let Hal chose whatever he wanted to do on the day (within reason) and that was how they ended up having a picnic in the park even though it was raining more than it wasn’t. They'd found space under a gazebo from where Petunia was happy to watch the  boys  play in the rain and get themselves covered in mud. 

She almost shrieked when the dog appeared, and only didn't rise in alarm when she saw how excited Hal and Ley were, as they started running across the field towards him.  She  guessed this must be the  one they had  told her  about a few days ago . But when they'd said they'd been playing with a dog in the park, she hadn't quite imagined  _that_ . It was a massive black dog, too thin to look healthy – not old, clearly still playful, but scraggly. She watched it carefully as it bounced up to the boys and Hal have him a scratch behind the ear, but he didn't seem too boisterous, in a way that he might hurt them while playing, and she let herself relax minutely. 

Hal trotted back up to her half a minute later, something in his hands.

“What's that, darling?”

“A gift?” He said, looking a little confused.

She raised a brow. “From the dog?”

“Well, I'm sure it's a coincidence.” Hal flushed. “But we were talking the other day and...” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

She smiled at him kindly. “It's a nice coincidence.” She agreed, and played along. “What did he get you for your birthday then?”

“Birch bark.” Hal brandished the large flat pieces of wood, looking pleased. “It's just what we were missing to do that waterproofing potion from my kit!”

She couldn't help a little frown. “That is an _odd_ coincidence.” She corrected.

“It is a bit.” Hal said quietly, looking back at the dog, who was happily catching the Frisbee Ley was throwing him. “I guess dogs can be really clever, right? We were looking for Birch trees when playing the other day. Maybe he understood.”

“Maybe.” Petunia said, feeling a bit uncomfortable about it.

Hal just shrugged, and ran back out to play with Ley and the dog. As soon as he joined them, the dog crowded back to him, and as Petunia watched them play, she noticed he stuck to Hal a lot more than he did Ley. She had noticed the same trend with Little Silver, and thought it was mostly because Hal took the cat to school and it was more familiar with his presence than with Ley’s and hers, but maybe Hal was also just good with animals. He had mentioned picking _Care of Magical creatures_ as one of his electives for the next year, after all. 

As long as it wasn’t creatures like the one that had recently just almost killed him…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.pubhist.com/w22316


	2. August (part 1)

Draco was breathless from impatience as he stood at the bottom of the stairs from the garden (a swooping flight of wide white marble steps leading up to the Manor’s main doors, a little ostentatious if you asked him, but he kind of loved them all the same) waiting for the Portkey to pull Hal, his cousin and his aunt from thin air. His mother was standing a few feet behind, by the door, watching him with some amusement, but also seemingly looking forward to their guests’ arrival. Draco knew she’d exchanged a few letters with Hal’s aunt, not just to organise their trip but also just to chat, and he was glad his mother could talk to her new friend freely. He wondered if they talked about them – he was sure they did, after all they were all they’d had in common as a starting point, but he’d decided not to dwell on the idea.

Finally, with a crack and a swoosh, three people materialised on their lawn, holding on to a strand of woven willow, like the handle to a basket that might have broken off. Draco couldn't help it – he dashed forward and, spotting the same grin and eagerness on Hal’s face, barrelled into him for a hug.

“Wow.” He heard his cousin breathe out next to them.

While he’d have happily stayed there for a while longer, Hal solid and safe in his arms (he still saw him dead in his nightmares every other night, he would not apologise for seeking the reassurance), he collected himself and let him go so he could greet their other guests.

“Hello, Mrs Dursley.” He smiled at her politely, then more widely at Ley, though he still felt a little awkward around the other boy, having only crossed path briefly in the past. “Hi, Ley.”

“That’s your _house_?” Ley replied, too distracted to return the greeting.

Draco looked briefly over his shoulder, as if to check it still looked the same. His mother and Hal’s hand where exchanging a brief hug and starting to chat already. Draco had never thought of the house as impressive, having grown up here, but he supposed it was quite grand.

“Yeah.” He shrugged, turning back.

And finally getting a good look at Hal. He seemed a little taller again, already, and his skin had taken a soft caramel colour that did unspeakable things to Draco’s imagination. He turned away again, hoping they couldn’t see him blush, and gestured towards the Manor.

“Come, I’ll show you around.”

They didn’t do a full tour, they didn’t have all day, but Draco showed Ley some of the main rooms. He left out the library with the lovely balcony – that was his space, and he’d wanted to share it with Hal the year before, but that was… Hal was different. And Hal noticed, of course, as they walked right past the staircase that would have taken them up there, but he didn’t say anything, and when Draco caught his eye, he simply smiled understandingly.

The five of them had lunch, a more casual affair than Draco had ever seen in the presence of guests; a cold spread was already on the table for everyone to help themselves to what they wanted, and the elves remained out of sight, which was unheard of in his experience – Narcissa would usually consider it a show of respect to her guests for them to be waited upon. But he could see how she’d assumed it might not go down as well with Muggles. He repressed a chuckle when he remembered how startled Hal had been by Dobby, the previous summer.

Ley was excited about pretty much everything he saw, and while more contained, his mother looked at her surroundings with no small degree of awe either. Draco could relate; his small prior experiences of the Muggle world had been confusing in their own right. He could imagine it took some adjusting, even the things he thought as completely normal, such as the water carafe levitating across the table to refill glasses that were almost empty.

“Hey, what time are we meant to leave?” Ley asked him at one point. “Would we have time to fly?”

“I promised I’d let him try my broom first chance we got.” Hal explained. “But we can’t exactly do that in our neighbourhood.”

“I don’t think aunt Andromeda and uncle Edward are expecting us much before dinner.” Draco said. “So we should have time.”

“Awesome.” Ley nodded with a wide grin.

Draco had been worried about getting along with the boy, about the dynamic between him and Hal from years of growing up together and sharing everything, between Hal and himself from school and magic (and his unmentionable feelings), and between the three of them as a result. But Ley was easy-going as can be, if anything it was hard _not_ to get along with him. He was also hilarious, as the rest of the afternoon proved. He couldn’t get enough of anything, and was cracking joke after joke. Even if Draco hadn’t found them funny, the free and happy way in which Hal laughed would have been enough to be contagious. Draco had never seen this much energy in a person outside of the Weasley twins.

“Boys!” Draco’s mother eventually called them after hours of zooming about on brooms, both attempting to explain the rules of Quidditch to Ley and to play something called ‘football’ when they were on the ground (Draco remembered Hal, Dean and Seamus going on about it once, it sounded very complicated) and all in all just having the time of their life.

Time to go. They filed up back into the house, gathering their things in front of the main hall fireplace – the one in the sitting room was the one they usually used for small trips, but they needed one large enough to go through with their luggage this time. Draco could see on Hal’s aunt’s face that her previous experiences of Flooing hadn’t left her feel greatly enthusiastic about this means of transportation. Then again, she’d only done it to rush to Hal’s side when he’d gotten injured at Hogwarts, so he couldn’t really blame her.

Hal was quietly explaining to Ley how it worked and how weird it felt, when the fire roared green, indicating Andromeda had connected the line. Draco felt himself stand a little straighter, just as he noticed his mother doing the same.

“I’ll go first.” She announced. “Draco, make sure our guests are alright? You can come last.”

Draco nodded, and his mother stepped into the fire, followed by Petunia, Hal and Ley together, then Draco himself as he took a final, deep breath before going through.

* *

*

Nymphadora was rather looking forward to meeting her aunt and cousin, but she was also a little anxious. She had grown up with tales – not much, snippets her mother had allowed her to know – of the toxic environment that had been the Black family, or any Pureblood family for that matter. The Malfoys were kind of the flagship for that, too. Dora knew that you didn’t shake generations of ideologies and snobbery that easily.

But she trusted her mother when she said that her sister’s will to change seemed genuine. The fact that her husband had been dead almost seven years probably did a lot to reinforce that confidence. Lucius would certainly have been the worse influence in Narcissa’s life, once their parents had died and their basket-case of a third sister had been incarcerated. Without him, it sure looked like it had taken her some time to get out of that mentality, but at least she was getting there. The fact they were visiting with a Muggle family in tow, for one, that Narcissa was _friends_ with, could only bode well.

And Draco hadn’t been sorted in Slytherin! Dora was excited about that – it showed the kid was growing to be his own person, as she had no doubt he _would_ have been a snake had his father still been around. She remembered Sirius from when she had been younger, the first to have broken the pattern by not being sorted in Slytherin, and the only one of her mom’s family who had ever given them the time of day (until now). S he’d really liked him . H e had been rather vocal in his rejection of the Black way , but Dora had always thought that had made him a much better person, though – so much so that she firmly believed there had been a mistake, an injustice , and he could _not_ have done all these terrible things people said he had.

The fact that he had escaped Azkaban was… a little disturbing. She imagined him on the run, pictured scenarios Alexandre Dumas would have been proud of. Maybe she read too much. She had suggested to her mom trying to reach out, to send him a message so they could help him, but-

“I am not taking that risk.” Andromeda had answered, giving her daughter a pointed look.

Dora had glared back. “I am not a child.”

It was her father who had placed her hand on her shoulder.

“You are and will always be our little girl.” He’d said. “And it’s our job to protect you. While we think it’s _unlikely_ your mother’s cousin is a threat to you… it’s not something we are prepared to gamble with.”

And that had been the end of that. She did understand – her parents would always worry about her. And she wasn’t naive, she knew that even if Sirius had been a good man when she’d met him when she was eight, twelve years in Azkaban could change a person. But she remained convinced; she’d might have been a child then, but she’d seen him interact with James, they were best friends, they were _brothers_ – there was no way in the Underworld he had betrayed him, Lily and their baby.

Harry – she was excited about meeting him too. Not just because he was _Harry Potter_ , and everything that came with it, but also from what Narcissa had written to her mom about him. Draco appeared to have him and a large group of friends by his side at Hogwarts, good on him, and Harry sounded like a feisty, brave, reckless kid, who wasn’t quite done defying expectations and facing off He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was all very impressive, for a little boy.

A little boy was what she’d been expecting, at any rate. The person who came through the Floo was… even _teenager_ was too understated a word. For all his thirteen years, he was tall, tanned, still youthful and innocent but a clear picture of the man he’d become – call Dora crazy, she had an instinct for these things. Being a Metamorphmagus meant you spent a lot of time looking at features – your own and others’. This kid would have been snapped up in half a second to model for Burberry, or some equivalent, if they’d laid eyes on him.

She said as much to her mother, after the meet and greet.

“I remember Lily and James being good looking, but wow.” She added with a whistle. “Their genes combined in all the right ways.”

“Dora!” Andy admonished her in a whisper. “He’s thirteen.”

“Exactly! Can you imagine how stunning he’ll be in a few years?”

“Oh, shush.” Her mother rolled her eyes at her, but Dora could tell she totally agreed.

Apart from that, he seemed nice and funny – so did his cousin, but also a real handful, especially when the two of them combined their efforts. Dora could tell Petunia was a rather formidable woman, to keep these two in check.

Narcissa and Draco were still undeniably posh, in the way they spoke and held themselves, but there was a softer edge to them both too, compared to what Dora knew Purebloods could be like. Once reassured that her parents, Narcissa and Harry’s aunt seemed to be getting on, and were all on their way to the kitchen for tea and biscuits, she turned her attention fully to the boys.

“So, third year?” She grinned at Harry and Draco. “You’ll get to go to Hogsmeade!”

She saw Harry cast Draco an uncertain look, just as Dudley voiced the question for them both.

“What’s Hogsmeade?”

“It’s that little wizarding village that’s next to the school.” Dora told them. “From third year, you have Saturdays where you’re allowed to go there, there’s shops, cafés… You should get a permission slip with your letter.”

“That’s cool.” Harry beamed.

They talked about school for a bit, what electives the boys had picked, until they all became conscious that while listening patiently and with some interest, the Muggle among them must feel a little left out.

“Wanna see some France?” Dora suggested.

“Hell yeah!” Ley jumped enthusiastically to his feet.

* *

*

When between a mouthful of eggs and a sip of her coffee, his mother suggested a trip to Diagon Alley to get _her_ fitted with a new dress, Pan knew he had to talk to his parents.

“I don’t think I need a new dress.” He first tried to bide his time.

“Darling.” His mother smiled back. “It’ll be perfect for the garden party at Greengrass House.”

“I was rather thinking of wearing a... suit? For that?” Pan hazarded.

His father looked over the Daily Prophet, one eyebrow raised.

“A suit?” He repeated.

“Like a, boy suit.” Pan tried to sound firm. “Trousers. Waistcoat. You know.”

A garden party was a little too casual for full dress robes, but nicely tailored suits certainly made an appearance, as did bespoke dresses on the ladies. The thought of parading in yet another new dress made Pan slightly nauseous, but the idea of a new _suit…_

“Why would you want that?” His father prompted further.

Pan took a deep, steadying breath, and was glad when his voice came out level and completely calm.

“Because I’m a boy.”

“Are you now?” His father’s lips twitched in a small smile, as his mother rolled her eyes fondly.

They were both humouring him, as they had done countless time when he’d been younger. But this wasn’t a childish joke.

“I’m serious.” He insisted. “Mother, father.” He took another deep breath. “I- don’t feel right in this body. I’m a boy, inside, in my soul. I know it to be true.”

His parents’ expressions started to crumble, though they were obviously still coming to grasp with the turn the conversation was taking.

“I’m a boy.” Pan said for a third time. “I hope you can accept that. I will be starting my transition this year under the supervision of Hogwarts’ Potions Master.”

It wasn’t a question, and Pan immediately saw in both adults’ eyes that they understood that. That they understood he was dead serious, and there would be no negotiation. They remained silent for a long moment – Pan expected an explosion, any second now…

His mother shook her head quietly, in the end, looking disappointed.

“How can you do this to us?” Her tone wasn’t asking for an answer.

His father pulled up the newspaper again, and reacted just as calmly.

“Get out.”

This wasn’t a negotiation either, and Pan knew he didn’t mean just the breakfast parlour. He put his napkin next to his plate, got up, and went to fetch the bags he’d packed days ago. Some essentials, and some comforts – not that much, all in all, that he wanted to take with him. The most important thing was the leather purse, filled with the coins he’d been putting aside ever since he’d made Snape the promise to come out to his parents.

Casting the strongest feather-light and shrinking charms he could manage on the luggage, knowing he would likely no longer be in a Permission circle for underage magic by the time they needed renewing, Pan fitted everything in a single shoulder bag, and left without looking back.

Only once he’d walked to the local Floo and Portkey Station did he realise he had no idea where to go. When vaguely thinking about the very real possibility he’d be kicked out from home after having that talk with his parents (he’d avoided thinking long and hard about it, which maybe was turning out to be a mistake), he’d thought he could go to Malfoy Manor, but the Malfoys were in France right now.

He should have taken Blaise’s advice, and do it just before the start of term. Blaise’s mother was always hosting parties and, according to Blaise, having _friends_ over, so Pan couldn’t very well go and knock on his door. The rest of his Slytherin friends… well, they didn’t know, for one, and then they were all Pureblood, and who probably either cast him out as well or take him right back to Parkinson Hall.

As for the Gryffindors, he didn’t know which of spending the rest of the month with a million Weasleys, stuck between Longbottom and his grandmother, or in a Muggle home, appealed less. Not that he had any idea where they lived. While his friendship with that lot had grown steadily throughout the year, they’d not actually exchanged addresses.

It left Anthony, who had actually held Pan back when they’d gotten off the train in June, and had slipped him a piece of parchment with his Floo coordinates. He hadn’t said anything, but Pan had seen his serious look, before he’d said something goofy or other to Ron. He hadn’t meant as a light ‘write to me’.

Pan headed to one of the operators, and showed them the parchment.

“How much and how long to get there?” He asked.

The girl behind the desk gave him a pinched smile – he knew his tone was dry and entitled, maybe he’d need to work on that, but he couldn’t give a toss right now, he was not exactly having a good day – and looked at the address.

“Oh.” She actually lit up minutely. “That’s right around the corner – you could walk there in twenty minutes or so, if you want. Or I can set up a hearth, it would be-”

“I’ll walk.” Pan interrupted her.

Time, he had. Money, he’d rather not spend if he could avoid it – a new and uncomfortable concept, but one he’d bloody well would have to get used to.

He wasn’t sure how Anthony’s family would receive him, but he figured he could at least have a rest stop there, get something to eat if they felt generous enough, renew his charms, maybe use their Floo to book a room somewhere. He wasn’t expecting them to let him stay with them for the next three weeks before term started, even if Anthony himself had clearly wanted to be supportive, it was a lot to ask. But he was hoping he’d find at least a little kindness there, before he was on his way. Anthony’s parents seemed alright, every time he’d talked about them.

What Pan found when he reached the Goldstein house was a locked gate. Looking across the alley leading up to the house (a rather lovely converted farm house, by the looks of it), there didn’t seem to be anybody home. As if to confirm the Universe’s _fuck you_ , there was a rumble of thunder, followed about five seconds later by a sudden downpour. Pan ran to a nearby oak tree, sheltering under the wide branches.

“What now.” He sighed to himself.

He’d walk back to the station and try to Floo somewhere – he might be able to afford going directly to the Leaky Cauldron, they had rooms there, and then he’d be where he needed already for school supplies and the train. Not fancying making that walk in the heavy rain though, Pan sat down at the foot of the tree to wait it out for a bit.

The rain didn’t let up, but just as Pan was psyching himself up to get back to his feet and go, before his charms wore off and he had to walk back with a heavy trunk this time, he could hear cheerful chatter, and soon enough, a group of people came into view. Pan recognised Anthony, holding a little girl by the hand who was bouncing up and down beside him. Their parents walked behind them, wands up and holding a water-repellent charms over everyone’s heads.

Anthony spotted him as he got to his feet, and the grin on his face faded.

“Pan?”

He let go off his little sister’s hand and ran right into the rain to meet him underneath the tree.

“You alright mate?”

“Got kicked out of home earlier.” Pan announced right away. “Found out you lived nearby so I thought I’d… say hi.” He finished, not gathering the courage to admit the next words should have been _ask for help_. “Before I sort myself out. I’ll probably be off to London. I was just about to go when I saw you weren’t home.”

“Yeah, it’s Saturday.” Anthony said, looking a little dazed. When Pan just frowned, he pointed to his head, where Pan just then spotted the kippah. His father was wearing a similar one. “Synagogue.” Anthony specified.

“You go to Muggle worship?” Pan realised with some surprise.

Anthony had a little smile. “You know my mom’s a Muggle, right?”

“Yeah, I… No.” Pan admitted. “I mean, part of my brain knew you’re Half-Blood, but I never stopped to think about it.”

“Do you still want to come in?” Anthony quipped.

He didn’t wait for an answer, other than Pan rolling his eyes. His family had walked up to the gate and he turned to them.

“Mom, dad, this is Pan from school.”

“It’s lovely to meet you, Pan. Come out of the rain.” His mother said immediately, before Anthony could even add or ask anything.

They all went in, Anthony’s little sister – Esther was it? - alternating between shooting Pan curious looks and babbling happily as they shed their boots and cloaks in the entrance hall. Pan hooked his up neatly, and took his luggage out of the smaller bag, lining the miniature items sensibly against the wall to give them space to return to their normal size and weight as the charms wore off.

Pan then greeted Anthony’s parents properly. “Pan Parkinson.” He said. “Thank you for having me.”

Turning to Anthony, he could see on his face they thought the same thing.

“Pan Parkinson?” Pan repeated with a snort. “That sounds terrible.”

“You do need a new name, mate.” Anthony agreed.

“Anthony has told us a little about you.” Mrs Goldstein smiled at them. “You’re in Slytherin, is that right?”

“That’s right, ma’am.”

“Oh, please.” She looked mildly horrified. “Call me Lana. Gabriel was a Ravenclaw himself, just like our Anthony. I’m glad the House rivalries seem to be less intense than they were when he first told me about all of this!”

Anthony and Pan exchanged a look – that wasn’t quite true, they weren’t exactly the best example of how the Houses treated each other, but it was probably best not to get into that. Over lunch, Pan got to learn a lot more about the Goldsteins. They were lovely people, for one, unquestioningly welcoming even though Anthony hadn’t repeated to them what had brought Pan to their door. There had been Muggles in their family across the generations, and while it was rare among Wizards to practice religion, that was one of the reasons the Jewish traditions had been passed on, as well as the habit of going to the Synagogue. That was where Anthony’s father had met his mother.

“It must have been a lot to take in.” Pan appreciated, as Lana recounted how she had learnt all about the magical world throughout their courtship and the first few years of their marriage.

“It was.” She admitted. “But it’s wonderful, too.”

“Is Esther magical?” Pan asked, hoping it wasn’t rude to ask.

He wasn’t exactly accustomed to spending time with Half-Bloods, let alone Muggles, and had no idea what the etiquette really was there. Certainly not _crush them under your heel_ , which was what he’d learnt from his father and circle. Nobody seemed affronted by the question, so Pan considered it a win.

“We think she is.” Gabriel smiled fondly at his little daughter. “There’s been a few occurrences of what may or may not have been accidental magic, but it’s still hard to tell. We’ve put her in Wizarding daycare, just to be on the safe side.”

When they moved on to the front room for coffee – Pan thanking both parents profusely for lunch, and didn’t that feel new and novel not to act like everything was owed to him; it was actually kind of nice – Anthony and Pan held back for a moment.

“Was it awful?” Anthony asked him worriedly.

Pan shrugged. “Could have been worse. They didn’t shout or cry or hit me or anything. Just pretty much told me to fuck off.”

“Nice.” Anthony winced.

“Yeah, well.” Pan sighed. “It wasn’t like I was expecting a hug and a _Well done, son_. I’m okay.”

Anthony still patted his arm comfortingly.

“So what’s your plan now?” He enquired.

“I’ve got a bit of money saved up.” Pan said. “I was thinking of maybe getting a room at the Leaky Cauldron, or-”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Anthony interrupted him. “You can stay here.”

Pan frowned seriously. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the offer, but he didn’t want to be naive. It wasn’t Anthony’s decision to make.

“Ant, that’s a long time. I can’t ask that of your parents.”

“You’re not asking, we are.” Gabriel’s voice intervened behind them, before Anthony could do more than open his mouth (presumably to react to the fact that _had Pan just called him ‘Ant’?_ ).

They both whirled around, a little startled, finding Anthony’s father standing in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Forgot the sugar.” He grinned as an explanation to his presence. He walked up to them, and put a firm hand on Pan’s shoulder. “You are welcome here.” He declared. “Anthony has told us a little about you and your brave decision. If your parents cannot appreciate you as you are, we will.”

“It’s a big house.” Anthony added with a brief look of almost worship towards his dad. “Not as big as yours, I’m sure, but you still wouldn’t be in anyone’s way.”

“I don’t know what to say.” Pan admitted.

“Say _Thank you, that sounds great_.” Anthony suggested.

Pan had a shaky laugh, but when he looked up to Mr Goldstein, it was with the full confidence of his education.

“Thank you.” He said solemnly. “I gratefully accept your invitation.”

“Oh, Lana will be thrilled.” Gabriel commented happily before skittering out of the kitchen.

Anthony turned back to Pan with a wide grin.

“Welcome to the mad house.”

* *

*

Hal and Draco had taken full advantage of magic meaning they could come back from holidays with twice as much stuff as he’d left with to buy an unreasonable amount of gifts and treats to bring back to their friends, including a box of French Every Flavour Beans they had to buy again after they’d sampled them and ended up eating the whole thing (Ley had helped with that).

Some of the flavours were the same, and others were local and met more or less of a success – fresh baguette, croissant and macaron and most of the pâtisserie flavours among the best rated by all three boys, “oil paint” and “cigarette butt” among the worst, while savoury flavours like onion soup, snails in garlic butter and boeuf bourgignon divided them (Draco thought they were lovely, Hal and Ley thought they were just weird). All three of them were more intrigued than delighted by the cheese and wine flavours, figuring they were maybe more adult tastes. They did not even discuss “French kiss”.

“Trust me.” Dora had told them with a wink. “Once you get used to that flavour, you can’t get enough of it.”

They spent a lot of time with Dora, as she did her utmost to be welcoming to the boys and show them around. Narcissa, Petunia and Andromeda – as well as Ted when he was off work – also seemed to be getting on famously, so they mostly left the children to their own devices. They hadn’t had time to go to Paris, but Hal couldn’t say he minded; there was plenty to see and do where they were, and he didn’t really seek busy places. It was actually nice spending time shopping and out and about in France, as people tended to not recognise Hal as much, or at least be less intense about it.

It did happen, however. Once, as Dora had gone off to meet friends and Draco, Hal and Ley were sat enjoying some ice cream at a place that had quickly become a regular spot ever since the first day, when Dora had introduced them to it. The _pain d’épice_ flavour in particular was to die for, and as they came back and back again, Draco showed partial to pink grapefruit while Ley tended to gorge gorging himself on _éclair_. Hal was just happy to try as many flavours as he possibly could.

This particular time, a pair of girls, about their age, started whispering excitedly. Draco could see Hal tense, and consciously _not_ look up, when they heard his name.

“Mais si, je te jure!” One of the girls was insisting to her friend. “C’est lui.”

“Mais il est trop mignon!”

“T’as vu? Tu crois qu’on peut lui demander une photo?”

“T’es folle, j’ose trop pas.”

“L’autre c’est Draco Malfoy. Le plus blond. T’sais, il était dans le magazine aussi, sur la liste des meilleurs partis.”

Draco winced at how they pronounced his name, and he sent a look to Hal (still keeping his head down) and Ley (who had also fallen silent). Ley gave Hal a sideways glance.

“You don’t have your magic toffees on you, do you?” He asked in a low voice.

“Not sure I’d eat one if I did.” Hal replied quietly.

Behind them, the girls were continuing to comment both Hal and Draco’s qualities as potential future husbands, and wondering who Ley was and if he was also _super mignon et super riche il parait en plus_. Draco lasted another seven seconds before he turned around.

“Excusez-moi.” He saw them startle, and they both looked at him like deer caught in headlights. “C’est un peu gênant, votre conversation.” He told them with a tight smile. “Parce qu’on comprend, en fait.”

It wasn’t entirely accurate of course, as only Draco had understood them, but it was enough to make both girls flush, look utterly mortified, and even get up and leave with muttered apologies. They were barely out of earshot when Ley laughed loudly.

“Mate, that was brilliant.” He slapped Draco on the back. “Didn’t know your French was so good.”

“You barely have an accent.” Hal added, looking impressed.

Draco shrugged modestly, though he was internally preening at the praise.

“My mother’s always loved France.” He said by way of an explanation. “We spent a lot of holidays in different parts of the country. I started learning early.”

“Thanks, anyway.” Hal smiled at him. “I thought it wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t understand what they’re saying, but… actually, it’s worse.”

“If it helps.” Draco said hesitantly. “They were mostly just arguing if it was really you, and saying you’re cute.”

“Awwww.” Ley immediately took the piss, which effectively defused any embarrassment.

“Sod off.” Hal laughed, shoving his cousin.

After a few minutes of goofing around, they were interrupted as Dora appeared and walked up to their table, looking a bit sombre.

“Something wrong?” Draco worried.

She waved a paper she held in her hand. “Lockhart’s trial made the front page of the _Daily Prophet_ .” She announced. “He’s playing the _I am totally innocent look at my beautiful blue eyes_ card.”

“What an idiot.” Hal sighed.

“Well, you’re only kids.” Dora winced. “Underage witnesses are more easily made to look unreliable.”

“He’s also _Harry Potter_.” Draco pointed out coldly. “And I’m a Malfoy, which does still mean something when it comes to my word, thank you very much.”

He knew she was right in a way – it was illegal to give Veritaserum to minors, and while using a Pensieve could be an option (though it was also considered to be a bit of an ethical grey area), children’s memories were often easily thrown out on the basis they were too “emotional.” Draco, however, was about to point out Severus would also be a witness, having caught Lockhart right in the act, but his cousin interrupted his upcoming rant with a snort.

“Don’t get on your high horse.” She said with a teasing smile. “You’re right, and there’s no chance he’ll get away with this. I was just hoping, for your sakes, he’d just plead guilty and you wouldn’t have to go through all that.”

“I never hoped he wouldn’t be a twat to the end.” Hal commented. “He’s too full of himself to even realise what’s good for him.”

“Fair point.” Dora sighed. “If that makes you feel better, there are still some supporters of his out there, but he’s definitely no longer flavour of the month. Most people are rooting for you. Some stores have even stopped selling his books.”

She dropped the paper on the table, and Draco saw the moment it happened. Lockhart _had_ made the front page, but he was sharing it with one Sirius Black, who hadn’t been off it since he’d broken out, seeing as the Ministry was still nowhere nearer catching him, and Hal’s eyes latched onto it as soon as it landed in front of him. He put a finger on it, just as Draco’s hand twitched to snatch it out of his sight – it was too late.

“Is that…” Hal’s voice wavered, and he looked up to Draco, pale and looking lost. Of course he’d remember and recognise the name.

“Is that what?” Dora piped up, before her gaze fell on the page too. “Oh.”

Ley leaned forward to look at it, clearly having immediately sensed his cousin’s distress, going by the look of concern on his face and the way he probably unconsciously squared his shoulders a little as if to shield Hal.

“Who’s that?” He asked demandingly.

“That’s Sirius Black.” Dora answered quietly. Draco didn’t think he could have found his voice.

“Yeah, I can read.” Ley raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “And?”

“He escaped prison a month or so ago.” She carried on. “He’s… he _was_ Harry’s parents’ friend. He’s a cousin of ours.”

“I thought you couldn’t escape that prison.” Hal said tonelessly, as if he was forcing himself to focus on something, anything else than the fact this gaunt, crazy looking man on the front page was one of the only links to his dead parents out there.

“It’s virtually impossible, yes.”

“Just like it’s impossible to break into Gringotts?” Hal pointed out drily.

“Harry-” Dora started, and Draco could tell she was about to launch into something like apologising, or talking about how Black had ended up in Azkaban in the first place, and no, just no, _he_ needed to tell Hal this.

“Hal.” He spoke over her. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Hal frowned, slightly confused. “Sure.”

He put a placating hand on Ley’s arm, who was eyeing Draco suspiciously, and they both stepped away from the tables.

“What is it?” Hal prompted, kind and unworried, and Draco already hated himself for being the bearer of this shitty story.

“About Sirius Black…” He swallowed, not sure how to continue – or even where to start.

“Yeah?” Hal encouraged him after too long a pause.

“You already knew Black was one of your parents’ mates and that he was in prison, but with this happening… I thought maybe you’d want to hear the full story from a friend.” Draco explained. “Rather than read it in the paper. Merlin knows the _Prophet_ can be a bit… sensational about things.”

“Okay.” Hal nodded. “What’s the full story?”

Draco took a deep breath. “He was arrested after one of his spells killed twelve Muggles and a Wizard.” He could see Hal get even paler. “He was running away after… It was just after You-Know-Who…”

Draco’s throat was tight, but Hal seemed to fill in the blanks, and his eyes widened in horror.

“My parents?” He asked, barely above a whisper.

Draco nodded. “He was your dad’s best friend.” He felt on the verge of tears. “They trusted him with their hiding place, and he… He sold them out.”

Hal looked like he’d just received a punch to the stomach, and he sat down on the cobblestone pavement, curling up against the wall. Draco only remotely registered the scraping noise of a chair being pushed back behind him on the terrace, as he tried to keep his own legs supporting him. A second later, Ley was crouched next to Hal, a hand on his back. Before he could ask what was going on, Draco gathered what willpower he had left.

“Hal, there’s something else.”

“Mate.” Ley intervened warningly, glaring up at him.

“They think he might be after you.” Draco blurted out before Ley could stop him.

This was something Hal needed to hear. The _Prophet_ had not reported on that, surely due to Ministry pressures, but Draco knew very well that was the case – he’d overheard as much from several politicians at one of his mother’s “social” gatherings, earlier in the summer.

“Fucking hell.” Ley muttered. “Hey. Hal. Buddy.”

He sat down right beside Hal and put an arm around him. Draco stood stiffly, quite sure his own attempts at comfort would not be welcomed at all. He felt Dora walk their way and hover behind him, but mercifully, she didn’t say anything. Ley was talking quietly to Hal, Draco didn’t try to hear it. He felt nauseous, guilty for causing his friend distress – but at the same time, he didn’t regret doing it. He hadn’t exactly sugar-coated it for him, but if Hal had heard it from even less sensitive parties, it could have been worse.

“Eh, les jeunes. Tout va bien?” Someone called at them from a distance.

It seemed to pull Hal out of the state he was in, and he jumped to his feet, even as Dora was assuring the man they were fine.

“I’m fine.” Hal echoed.

He had a determined look on his face, mirrored on Ley’s. Draco felt a pang of something almost like jealousy, or longing, for that closeness between them, the purity of that unwavering support between brothers. He was glad Hal had that – part of him just wished he had it too.

“I’m sorry.” Draco offered.

“Don’t be.” Hal shook his head. “It’s not your fault, and… thanks for telling me.”

“Oh, hey.” Dora suddenly said in a tone that was much lighter, albeit a little forced. “You also got a letter, Draco.”

She handed it to him – Draco knew it would be from Pan, he was the only one he’d given their French address to, figuring any other post could wait till he was back at the Manor. Hal knew that too, and he almost looked relieved to be able to worry about someone else.

“How’s is he?” He asked, clearly expecting the news was unlikely to be good.

“Came out.” Draco summarised. “Got kicked out of home- oh, he’s at Anthony’s!”

“Oh, that’s great.” Hal smiled in relief.

Ley, who had been fully briefed by Hal (Draco wondered if there was anything Hal didn’t tell him), was explaining the situation to Dora in stage whispers. She made approving noises, her hair (probably unconsciously, she’d explained to them how it happened sometimes based on her emotions) turning striped: blue, pink and white. It was a good thing they weren’t in a Muggle area right now.

“They’ll meet us in London on the 21st.” Draco concluded.

That was the date that had been set for the start of the trial, and therefore the date they’d decided to go for their school shopping as well.

At least there would be something to look forward to.

* *

*

Pan folded the parchment back into his pocket, a small smile playing on his lips.

“What did Draco say?” Anthony asked.

They were lounging in the Goldsteins’ back garden, enjoying the August sun – it had been raining for the past few days, and now was finally nice and warm for a change – and watching over Esther playing with all sorts of colourful contraptions (Muggle toys, and perfectly harmless, Anthony had insisted).

“He had a few choice words about my father.” Pan reported. “And he says to say thanks, you know, for not letting me be homeless.”

“That’s what friends do.” Anthony shrugged. “You’d have gone to him if he hadn’t been in another country.”

“Says France is nice, too.” Pan added. “And that his cousin made him listen to some Muggle music, and I should check out something called _3e_ _sex_ _e_ by Indochine.”

“Well, you’re in the right place.” Anthony offered. “My dad is actually obsessed with Muggle music, I’m sure he can dig that up for us.”

“That’s cool.” Pan nodded. After a moment’s hesitation, he added: “I had a favour to ask your dad, actually. Well. A question first.”

Anthony gave him an encouraging look – so far, Pan had been all over trying to make his presence as helpful and the least disruptive possible, helping around the house and offering all kinds of ways to ‘compensate’ for his imposition, despite the Goldstein’s assurance that it was their pleasure, so Anthony thought that was a nice change.

“Is he any good with hair-cutting spells?” Pan asked, fingers finding the tips of his straight black hair, somewhere just above his shoulder.

Anthony was startled into a laugh. “Well.” He said. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded helping, but he’s pretty rubbish at those. On the other hand.” He added with a grin. “My mom’s pretty good with hair-cutting scissors, if you don’t mind going at it the Muggle way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was getting very long with still the whole trial to go, so I’m splitting it here for a breather.
> 
> I found no report of the Goldstein names so I invented them!
> 
> I have a feeling some of you may start to ship Anthony and Pan, but I must disclose there is no plan to get them romantically involved! I love their friendship though, and this will definitely keep on growing :) and who knows, sometimes you can’t predict where your own characters might take you!
> 
> “3e sexe” is a rather progressive song from 1985 and there’s a new version Nicola Sirkis (the Indochine singer) made with Christine and the Queens which startled me at first then really grew on me, I think it’s great :)
> 
> Here’s the translation of the conversation in the ice cream place for those don’t speak French, or didn’t jump right on GT ;)  
> “It is, I swear! It’s him.”  
> “He’s so cute!”  
> “I know right? Do you think we can ask for a picture?”  
> “Are you mad? I so wouldn’t dare.”  
> “The other one is Draco Malfoy. The blondest one. You know, he was in the magazine as well, in that list of the best bachelors.”  
> And then they’re wondering who Ley is and if he’s also “super cute and, I hear, super rich as well” and Draco turns around:  
> “Excuse me. Your conversation is a little embarrassing. Because we can understand it, actually.  
> There you have it! Guaranteed authentic French, which is my native language.  
> (Later on, the man calls out “Hey, kids. Everything alright?”)


	3. August (part 2)

The strictly timed plan Draco had devised and shared with all their friends was the only thing stopping Hal from falling into a panic spiral. He had had nightmares again that night, had woken up drenched in sweat, clawing at ropes around his neck that weren’t there. It helped, being able to look at the sheet of parchment, and to go through everything that would happen today in his head. 8 am, meet up in Diagon Alley, get waffles. That was a very good start, and he could focus on that for a bit, instead of “10 am, present to the Ministry”.

Ley was very excited about the waffles part of the plan, as well as the later parts that involved shopping for treats (and school supplies, but that seemed beside the point to him), though Hal suspected him to be playing up his enthusiasm to distract  him and cheer him up.

“Magical waffles.” Ley had said in awe, the first time they looked at Draco’s schedule.

“They’re just waffles.” Hal had replied distractedly, already looking at the rest. “So the trial starts at 11, but Draco and I will need to be there at 10-”

“ _ Just  _ waffles?” Ley had  snatched the sheet  back from him . “Hal! Just waffles are magical in their own right!”

He’d launched into raving about waffles and their various toppings until Hal had laughed and forgotten about the trial for a bit.

Ley actually successfully kept him in a good mood all their way to London, and Hal himself was more excited about seeing their friends than he was nervous about what would come next, by the time they got to the Leaky Cauldron. They went through, Hal’s aunt still looking as wary as the first time, and Ley as pumped up, having agreed to meet in front of the _Sweet Tooth Fairy_ bakery and café.

Anthony and Pan were already waiting, standing close to a couple Hal assumed were Anthony’s parents, going by how he looked like a perfect mix of the two of them. A little girl was pulling on her mom’s hand, pointing at the various cakes in the window, squealing in excitement every time she spotted something new and exciting – glittery frosting, a chocolate hummingbird flittering around a vividly green kiwifruit cake…

“Pan!” Hal exclaimed as they jogged up to the pair. “You cut your hair!”

“Anthony’s mom did it.” Pan grinned.

“Really suits you, mate.” Hal told him truthfully.

They introduced each other to the adults – and the adults to each other. Hal’s aunt looked somewhat relieved to find out that Anthony’s mother was non magical, and when the latter announced she was going into the shop ahead of them with Esther, lest the child started thinking she wanted _all_ of the confections on display, Petunia followed, sharing anecdotes of how hard it used to be to keep Ley under control in the presence of cake (and actually, how not that much had changed).

L ey rolled his eyes, but he had to admit the window was more than appetizing. 

“ Trust me.” Anthony patted his arm. “The waffles might not look so fancy, but they’re really this place’s speciality.”

Draco arrived next, and he looked pale, like he hadn’t slept  any better than Hal had , but he smiled when spotting his friends, and complimented Pan’s hair. His mother greeted Mr Goldstein and they started talking about some charity event or other that the Malfoys had donated to.

“ I think the Weasleys are picking up Hermione.” Draco informed them, just as Neville arrived, out of breath as he was worried he was late.

He had come alone, his grandmother apparently judging that Flooing to and back from the Leaking Cauldron would be safe enough, if there were other adults  to supervise the day’s activities once he got  there. Hal had previously thought she was oddly not concerned, for a woman who had lost her son and daughter-in-law to madness following an attack, you’d think it would make her cautious, or at least somewhat protective of her only grandson and heir. But Neville had explained – to Hal only, in one of those moments where they found themselves talking about their parents in ways the others just wouldn’t understand – that she was actually rather the opposite. She’d grown up in the aftermath of the Global Wizarding War and still in the dark shadow of Grindelwald, and as an adult she’d lived through another war. Kids these days didn’t know how good they had it, and they didn’t need mollycoddling. 

“ She’s changed her tune a bit, to be fair.” Neville had admitted. “She was really overprotective when I was little, I mean, you guys know how meek I was when I first started Hogwarts, she didn’t let me do anything. But I think she sees that I need to grow up, and… well.” He’d cast Hal an odd look, and confessed: “I think being mates with Harry Potter did a lot to reassure her that I’d be alright.”

H al had felt terrible at the thought at the time – which was early into second year, back when he was still reeling from having faced a Voldemort-possessed Quirrell and feeling the guild of having endangered all of his friends in the process. He hadn’t seen how on earth being friends with him would make anyone safer. He still struggled to see it, even though helping Draco out of his predicament at the end of second year,  and even facing Lockhart, had eased that somewhat. He wasn’t  _ completely _ useless. 

T he Weasleys arrived a bit late and with their usual, typical brand of chaos. Both parents were there shepherding Percy, the twins, Ron and Ginny, as well as Hermione animatedly chatting with the latter. While they all looked a little pinker than usual, Fred in particular was beet red all over, and Ron sported pretty impressive sunburns on his forearms as well.

“The sun in Egypt is  _ brutal _ .” He explained, beaming at his friends.

“It’s never been so easy for mom to tell us apart.” George jested.

They talked for a few moments outside the shop, exchanging  some short  anecdotes about Egypt and France, before the bulk of the Weasleys went along for their shopping, leaving Ron to his friends – it wasn’t that they weren’t tempted by the waffles, but they didn’t think the café would be able to sit all of them (and, Hal suspected, winning a prize once did not change your attitude  towards money, and he suspected getting breakfast out was a treat that Mrs Weasley,  a brilliant cook in her own right, would deem an unreasonable fancy).

O nce inside,  Narcissa and  Anthony’s dad joined his wife and daughter and Hal’s aunt  at their table ,  while  the eight of them sat around a large corner booth of their own.  They ordered their waffles, which floated their way  from the kitchen  within minutes as they talked animately about their respective holidays – which they carried on even as they ate, though each and everyone of them was momentarily distracted by the heavenly smells and tastes.

“ I brought you guys some stuff back from Egypt.” Ron announced. “But mom made me leave them at home, she said we’d all have enough to carry today. So it’ll be for the train.”

“We have stuff too.” Hal said, on behalf of Draco, Ley and himself.

“Does that mean we have to bring you guys stuff?” Neville asked suspiciously.

“If you do, make sure you save my share.” Ley quipped back.

“ A representation of my holiday, same as you.” Nev deadpanned. “Beetroot from my garden.”

“On second thought, you can keep my share.”

“Hal, look.” Hermione suddenly waved something in his face, clearly having reached the limit of containing herself while the others talked, and jumping into the breach left in the conversation by everyone laughing.

“You have a phone!” Hal noted enthusiastically as she stopped moving long enough so he could see what she was holding.

“Yes! We’ll be able to text!”

They saved each other’s numbers, had a brief argument with Ron as to weather it really was more convenient than owling,  while Anthony asked Ley what they’d done with Little John Silver when they were in France (they’d left him with  their friend Jeremy, whose entire family had been very easy to convince to take care of the little rascal and almost hadn’t wanted to give him back – but Sil knew who his really family was, Ley said, and he’d ran right back to them when they’d picked him up, as nicely as he’d been treated during his stay there)  before Pan tapped on the table top lightly, but commandingly, effectively stopping the chatter around the table.

“Attention, please.”  He cleared his throat. “Last week, I wrote to Hogwarts to request a change in my record, and they have confirmed by return owl yesterday… I am officially enlisted now as Eitan Parkinson.”

“Oh, mate!” Ron exclaimed.

“Congratulations.” Hermione beamed. “That’s such a big step!”

“Lana helped me pick it.” Pan continued ( _ my mom _ , Anthony mouthed). “We considered Ethan, but I liked the original Hebrew version. It means… enduring.” He added, a little sheepishly.

“It’s perfect.” Draco commented softly, reaching across Neville and Anthony to give Pan’s hand a short squeeze.

“Eitan.” Ron repeated, as if trying to get used to it.

“Well.” Pan added. “ You can carry on calling me Pan, though. It’ll be less confusing for everyone.”

“People’s confusion is the least-”

Pan raised a hand to interrupt Hermione, an amused smile on his lips. “You’re welcome to use Eitan.” He said. “I picked it, and I like it. But I like Pan too. Nev suggested it, and I like that it’s the name you guys used as if it was so easy to accept me, as a Pureblood, as a Slytherin, and then as a guy.”

“It was.” Neville shrugged. “Well. To be honest, it did come as a surprise so I guess it took some getting used to. It got easier.”

“Yeah.” Ron teased. “Slytherin was hard to swallow at first.”

T hey laughed, toasted their hot chocolates “ T o Eitan!”, and carried on chatting and joking happily until Hal’s aunt interrupted them with a kind smile, coming to stand behind him and giving his hair a few strokes,  almost absent-mindedly .

“It’s quarter to ten.” She brought to their attention. “We should go.”

That killed the mood instantly.

“You’ll be fine.” Hermione caught both Draco and Hal together in a hug.

“We’ll see you from the public gallery.” Neville added.

“The man’s a tit.” Ron asserted. “ You’re not the ones on trial.”

“Think of the Quidditch supply shop.” Anthony offered.

“Fuck off already.” Pan pushed them towards the door.

Draco’s mother and Hal’s aunt walked them to the Ministry, Ley in tow – Hal was very glad Draco was part of this, not just for his support, but also because neither he nor his aunt would have known what to do,  and  while they would probably have managed,  they would have done that looking at best like lost ducklings and at worst like complete fools.  Mrs Malfoy,  on the other hand, navigated the entrance, the corridors and their way to the witness suite like she came here every day. 

Once they got there, as each witness required to appear in court could only be accompanied by one supporter, it had been decided Narcissa would stay with the boys, and Petunia and Ley would go to the public gallery. Hal had tried to tell them, and all of their friends, that they didn’t have to sit through that, that they should be out enjoying Diagon Alley in the meantime, but they’d all insisted they wanted to be there.

A  smiling, kind-looking witch greeted them inside the witness suite and started explaining how things would go, showing them who was who – the judge, the prosecution, the defence – and would be where on a moving model of the courtroom. If her job was solely to make witnesses feel more comfortable and less anxious about the whole process, Hal thought she was very good at it. She didn’t once make a personal comment about the case, Lockhart or  _ Harry Potter _ , which played no small part in  making him feel better about the whole thing .

“Another witness for your case is already here.” She told them after she’d gone through most of the details. She saw Hal frown, and perhaps misinterpreted it. “But we can keep you separated if you do not wish to see him.” She added. “Severus Snape?”

“Oh, of course.” Hal realised he’d forgotten Snape was also a witness – and thank Merlin, since he’d arrived in time to stop Lockhart wiping their memories and collecting another stolen exploit for himself, back in June.

“We’ll sit with him.” Narcissa said smoothly.

When the witch had led them into a (surprisingly cosy) waiting room and left them there with the promise of coming back with tea, Hal stood back a little as he let the Malfoys greet Snape. After a few minutes, however, to his surprise, the professor turned and addressed him directly.

“How are you, Mister Potter?”

“Oh. Er. I’m good, sir, thank you.” He cleared his throat, embarrassed and unsure how to interact with the man outside of a Potions classroom. “Did you have a good holiday?” He hazarded.

It could have been his imagination, but he thought Snape’s lips almost twitched into a smile. Almost.

“Pleasant enough.” He replied sternly. “How is your magic?”

“It’s there.” Hal nodded, before realising how stupid that sounded. “I mean, I didn’t get to use it much, obviously, but it feels strong. Back to normal.”

“Good.” Snape said, and that was apparently the end of that.

Draco and Hal huddled in a corner while Narcissa sat with Snape, and Draco  tried to reassure  Hal  about the conversation  by telling him  his godfather had asked him the same thing.

“ Obviously he’d ask you.” Hal pointed out. “I just didn’t think he’d care about me, it took me by surprise.”

“Of course he cares.” Draco said.

Hal allowed himself to snort. “ No, he doesn’t.” He corrected, though without any resentment. It was fair enough, he wasn’t particularly the man’s biggest fan either. “He’s being polite because  you and your mom like me .”

Draco’s expression turned strange for a second, only fleetingly, before he rolled his eyes.

“Give him some credit. He’s not as prejudiced against you as he was at the start of first year.”

Draco really believed that, though it would have been hard to be _more_ prejudiced than Severus had been at the start.

“ Thanks to you.” Hal insisted with a small smile.

T hey didn’t talk much more, as the witch returned with their tea and they sat drinking it in vaguely anxious silence, until it was time to go up to court.

“Mister Potter, you’re required first.” The kind witch told Hal  with a reassuring  expression . “ I will accompany you to the courtroom, and back here when you are done, and I’ll fetch Mister Malfoy then, alright?”

“Alright.” Hal nodded as he got up to follow her.

He looked back at Draco, who gave him a tentatively encouraging smile, and caught a glimpse of Snape’s  _ get on with it _ face that almost made him laugh.

It was only a short walk through the (gloomy, if you asked Hal) corridors to the courtroom, and before he knew it, Hal was sat at the stand, facing more people than he’d expected. Lockhart was where the lady had pointed out on the model was the area for the defendant, his lawyer next to him. Between them sat three judges in imposing robes and looking stern, though one of them gave Hal a smile when he entered. At least they wouldn’t be facing the whole Wizengamot, cases of fraud not being considered worth the time of the High court, despite this one’s high profile.

To the side, the jury was made up of three members of the public and three independent experts; in this instance, an Oblivation specialist from St Mungo’s, a book editor (Lockhart’s own editor would be part of the witnesses) and a magianthrozoologist – someone Hal understood studied interactions and social behaviour between wizards, magical animals and everything in between, like your werewolves and vampires, who where neither classified as completely human nor as creatures.

Draco and Hermione had  talked about the various differences between Muggle and Wizarding courts  at breakfast , but Hal hadn’t registered most of it,  though he knew this was different to the one judge and twelve jurors he would have initially expected.  A ll around the rest of the court  were sat  rows of Ministry members,  some wearing the plum-coloured robes of Wizengamot members though in this case their presence was more symbolic than procedural,  followed by rows of audience. 

Hal did think  _ audience _ was the right word – he spotted his friends and family, but apart from that, there seems to be an incredibly high amount of people who were there to follow the trial as if it was one of those shows Aunt Petunia liked to watch on TV sometimes.  Hal knew Lockhart was a draw in his own right, but the usher who had seen him into the room had let slip that today was particularly busy, and Hal felt rather uncomfortable at the thought that a lot of these people might be here to see him.

After Dora had shown them that first paper announcing the trial, Hal had kept an eye on the Wizarding press (though trying to ignore Sirius Black’s shouting face that kept gracing the front page), and while the public opinion seemed to be mostly on their side, there were a few letters from readers who didn’t believe the attack had ever occurred. At least, as minors, Hal and Draco’s addresses were magically protected, meaning random strangers could not send them owls, but that did not stop some of them from writing to the _Daily Prophet_ (and the _Prophet_ from publishing those) calling them jealous liars, and that their darling Gilderoy would never do such things. Narcissa had received a few, as well, the Malfoys being easier to find that Hal’s Muggle family, but she had promptly incinerated anything of that sort – the positive ones too, actually. She didn’t believe reading strangers’ opinions, whether supportive or hostile, would do the boys any good. She was probably right.

The trial had already been going on for two days, it being centred not just on Lockhart’s attack at the end of the previous school year, but on the decade of fraud it had uncovered, and most witnesses had been heard already. Draco and Hal, though, were considered key witnesses in that, so far, all that Lockhart had done could possible be considered a minor offence, from an eager author who had taken things a little too far, had gotten carried away and had started confusing reality and fiction. It demanded some restitution, sure, but not a heavy sentence. Attacking two students who were technically in his care as a Professor, however, was on a whole different level, and the backlash there would be much harder to evade.

“ Mister Potter.” One of the judges addressed him when came his turn to speak. “In your own words, can you explain what happened on the night of June 21 st 2002? ”

Hal nodded, and willed his throat to unclench as he started talking.

“I’d gone down into the Chamber of Secrets after my friend, Draco.” He summarised. “When we came back up, Professor Lockhart was there, and he suggested he was going to Obliviate the both of us so he could say he’d found the Chamber himself and beat the monster.”

He took a breath.

“We didn’t want to let him, obviously, so we tried to fight back, he didn’t like it so much.  He took our wands, he…” 

Another breath, resiting the urge to rub at his wrists and neck where he could feel phantom ropes.

“Cast a, er. I don’t remember the spell. A binding spell. We tried to do a  _ Protego _ , and it worked once, but we were both so exhausted, and he-” 

He paused for a second, the sequence of events and spells blurring in his mind.  _ Expelliarmus, Protego, Obliviate, Inter… Impri… Incra…  _ He shook his head back to the present. The quicker he finished telling his tale, the sooner this would be over.

“I kicked his legs, he kicked me back.” He brought a hand to his shoulder to indicate where. “My head hit the wall, or, like, the sink, so I thought that was it, but that’s when Professor Snape arrived and stopped him.”

“ Thank you, Mister Potter.” The judge said, and Hal wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but she sounded a little kinder than she had before. “Questions from the defence?”

“Many questions, yes.” Lockhart’s lawyer jumped to his feet. “Thank you, Judge.”

He approached the corner where Hal was sitting, bracing himself.  _ They’ll try to discredit you _ , Dora had warned them.  _ They can’t outright call you liars, so their only defence it to try to pretend you misread the situation, or are making a bigger deal about it than it was. _

“Mister Potter.” The lawyer started, his voice sickly sweet like he was talking to a much smaller child. “There seems to be quite a few elements of your story that don’t add up. You said you can’t remember what spell Mister Lockhart used?”

“Intra, something.” Hal replied. “It’s not a spell I know, I can’t remember the word, but it was something like that-” he waved his hand in a loopy fashion to indicate the wand movement “-and it made ropes appear and ties us down.”

“How can you be sure it was a spell at all, if you did not know it?”

Hal allowed himself to raise an unimpressed eyebrow. “I’m pretty sure he wasn’t just saying a word, on account of finding ourselves suddenly bound and gagged.” He retorted.

“Of course.” The man inclined his head, unbothered. “But you said you hit your head, didn’t you?”

“Yes,  _ after _ the spell, when I was already in the ropes and he kicked me in the  shoulder .”  Hal glared.

“And that’s when your head hit the wall.”

“Yes.” Hal said.

“Or was it the sink?”

He was almost smirking, and Hal took a deep breath to remain calm. It would only help the man’s case if he started kicking off, exasperated as he was.

“The sink, I think.” He said.

“So you don’t remember either?”

“I was a little preoccupied by my head  _ smashing into it _ to turn around and check if it was the wall or  the sink.” Hal argued.

Surely everyone else could see right through was he was doing, right? Was casting doubt on every detail of what he’d said really a tactic that worked?

“Of course.” The lawyer repeated, just as condescendingly  as before . “So that was after my client had allegedly bound you and took your wands. Mister Potter, if you no longer had your wands, how did you cast the  _ Protego _ spell you said you tried?”

“Wandlessly.” Hal answered plainly, though it was a near miss he didn’t add  _ duh _ or roll his eyes.

“Wandless magic is extremely difficult, Mister Potter.” The man pointed out. “And for a wizard your age especially. Do you expect us to believe you achieved this?”

“A wizard my age is still young enough to have the occasional manifestation of accidental magic,  especially under the influence of strong stress or emotions .” Hal replied, quoting something Hermione had told him almost word for word. “ We were plenty stressed,  believe me .”

“But also exhausted.” The lawyer threw back. “That’s what you said, right?”

_ Don’t bring up the Basilisk or  Tom  Riddle, _ Hermione had advised.  _ That’s not what this is about. _ He couldn’t completely gloss over it now, though.

“Yes.” He said, hoping he could keep it simple without too many questions. “We had just faced a fully grown Basilisk.”

There were gasps and murmurs in the audience – as if the whole story hadn’t been public knowledge already; the rumours had been running wild all summer after they’d spilled out of the Hogwarts student, to the point where it had become so ridiculous Dumbledore had had to make a statement towards the end of July to set the record straight.

“ Yes.” The lawyer said dubiously. “And you claim this was the reason why my client wanted to Obliviate you?”

“Yes.” Hal confirmed. “We were down there. He wasn’t. But he wanted to make it so people would believe he was the hero of the story. He’d been boasting about it for months, pretending he knew where to find the monster and all that.”

“So d id Mister Lockhart not  actually  know where the  so-called  Chamber  of Secrets ,  or wherever this monster resided, was?”

“ No.” Hal snorted. 

“ Then how do you explain his presence?” The lawyer smiled as if he’d caught him out. “How was he there to attack you and steal your glory in the first place, if he didn’t not even know where this Chamber was?”

“Before I went down, I told Moaning Myrtle to get some help. She’s a ghost.” He added. “I guess he’s the first person she found.”

“And why did you not wait for help? Two young boys going into a secret  part of the castle, presumed to be harbouring a dangerous monster,  without telling anyone but a ghost …”

“ Mister Odell. ” A judge (different to the one who had spoken to Hal). “This line of questioning is irrelevant to this case and to your client’s defence.” 

“Of course.” The man bowed his head, more chastised this time.

“If that is all?” The judge added.

The lawyer actually flustered under the imposing man’s gaze, and declined asking Hal anything else.

“Thank you, Sir.” The judge nodded. “I have one more question for the witness. Mister Potter, do you believe Gilderoy Lockhart to have premeditated his attack on yourself and Mister Malfoy?”

“No.” Hal answered honestly. “I believe he saw an opportunity when Myrtle told him about the situation, and he took it.”

He refrained from saying he didn’t think Lockhart wasn’t smart enough to have planned this forward – it wouldn’t help the case, and perhaps it was a little unfair as well, when he really thought about it. If the man had gotten away with chasing after fame and glory around the world for so long, finding just the right places and circumstances to Obliviate people and steal their stories, maybe he wasn’t entirely as daft as he looked.

“ Thank you.” The judge repeated.

With that, Hal was dismissed, and the usher saw him out again. The lady from the witness suite had brought Draco up, they exchanged a smile as the two staff swapped them over, and he went back down with her as Draco went into the courtroom.

* *

*

The trial lasted another two days after Hal, Draco and Severus had given their testimonies, but  by that point, everyone seemed to think it was a foregone conclusion. Both boys had been rather convincing  (their names and standing had no doubt helped)  and Sev had been  _ brutal _ – Draco had managed to piece together a complete account from their friends after a few times, even though Pan usually  got in the way of the story being told to its end by laughing like a maniac had how epically  _ Snape _ he had been, barely letting Lockhart’s lawyer get to the end of his stupid questions.

A s much as Draco was sick of the  _ Daily  _ _ Prophet _ and their biased reports on everything, he kept an eye on it, and was pleased to read about the verdict: Lockhart (or his legal team at any rate) had negotiated fines and reparations for the fraud, but he was also found guilty of seventeen counts of wrongful Obliviation, as well as threatening minors with intent to harm, for which he would serve two years in  the lower security levels of  Azkaban with a possibility of parole only after six months.  Draco did not like the idea of Azkaban for anyone, even the lower levels were no picnic; but the  thought  that the idiot had to surrender his entire fortune and would no longer be able to talk out of his arse, that was very satisfying. 

“ It’s over.” Draco’s mother said with a soft smile, running a hand through his hair as she c aught sight of the paper over his shoulder at breakfast.

“Yeah.” Draco sighed. “I wonder what kind of crazy the new defence Professor will be this time around.”

Not that he could blame normal people for not wanting to apply, the post being cursed and all. People hadn’t believed it for a while, but it had since appeared an inescapable fact that no man (nor woman) could hold the position for more than a year, whatever their reasons for leaving.  T hose weren’t always as dramatic as the two Draco had known; according to the Weasley twins, the one they’d had the previous year simply had to go on maternity leave  (clearly now with no intention of returning) , while the one before that had been a Ukrainian adventurer whom Dumbledore had to let go when it had become clear throughout the year that he barely spoke English, which  somewhat hindered the effectiveness of his teaching.

“ I’ll write to Hal to let him know .” Draco decided. “I don’t think he gets the  _ Prophet _ .”

W hich was a good thing, Draco thought not for the first time, as Sirius Black keeping the entire Auror department on a wild goose chase was still very much front-page news.  Draco had had enough of seeing the man’s face, and he couldn’t imagine how Hal would feel if he had to be confronted with it every morning, now knowing Black’s history.

“Before you do.” Narcissa stopped him as he was halfway out of the room. “I have something for you.”

“A present?” Draco’s eyes widened.

It wasn’t that his mother never gave him impromptu presents, he actually fairly frequently got something out of their shopping trips, though it was less systematic than when his father had been alive (he always wanted to buy Draco the best, the latest, the most impressive). But  she had already bought him a new winter hooded cloak on their last trip to Diagon Alley  (a thing of beauty, midnight blue, heavy and soft and comforting in a way Draco couldn’t wait for the weather to get cold) , so he hadn’t expected her to have another gift for him, at least not before he left for school (for the past two years, she’d slipped him something when leaving him on the train).

“I know the end of the school year was hard on you.” His mother said, smiling still, but with sadness and a lingering fear in her eyes.

Draco’s heart clenched – he knew he’d given her the worst scare she’s had since that illness that had almost killed him years ago. She did not deserve that. He should be the one buying her comforting gifts, and he resolved to send her something from Hogsmead as soon as they had their first weekend outing there.

“And you could have decided not to testify at the trial to spare yourself having to live through it all again.” She continued. “I know it brought back some of the nightmares. It was very brave. So I wanted to say well done.”

Well done for waking up screaming in the middle of the night and scaring your mother some more, Draco thought bitterly, though he knew what she meant. It had never entered his mind  _ not _ to testify, at least not if Hal was doing it, but he supposed it had been his choice, something he could have decided to shield himself from. He didn’t feel like it was something people should be proud of him for, though. He hoped people thought of him as a decent enough human being that they’d never have expected him to not go through with it, when it was the right thing to do.  Not that he thought his mother had doubted him, but- he blinked the thoughts away, focusing on the present matter.

“Mother, you didn’t have to.” He said quietly.

“I wanted to.” She repeated. “ And I’m hoping to get something out of it too.”

Before Draco could do more than frown in confusion, she called Totsy, the  E lf who tended to the gardens, who appeared in a crack… holding a gilded cage. An enthusiastic screech came from it, and Narcissa reached to open the little door, letting a small owl hop onto her arm.  Its front was stripes of black and white, soft-looking feathers, while the wings were mottled in the same colours as well as brown hues. On the round head, the effect was almost like polka dots, softening the  owl’s  frown over  its  piercing yellow eyes and sharp yellow beak.

“She’s still little.” Narcissa said fondly, stroking the owl’s – her – belly. “But she’s young, she’ll grow a bit. She’s a hawk owl.”

“She’s mine?” Draco breathed out, almost not daring to approach.

His mother smiled knowingly, extending her arm and the owl towards him. “You can name her.” She said by way of confirmation.

Draco held his arm out, and the owl jumped over to him,  immediately then  hopping higher on his arm and starting to investigate him by pecking his hair, which made laughter bubble up his throat.

“ Oh, she’s lovely. Thank you.” He beamed at his mother.

“This will mean more letters for me, I hope.” She replied. “I know the school owls are not always available.”

It was too kind of her, to assume that was the reason why Draco hadn’t written more often the previous year, but he did not want to think about the real causes or dive into that guilt again, so he pushed those thoughts out of his mind too.

“I promise.” Draco nodded – the owl hopped on his head in response, and he had to laugh again. H e didn’t have to think  for  very long to add. “Ceridwen.” 

He’d loved the name since reading about the witch in a book of Welsh legends – her actual existence was disputed in the magical community, but Draco had liked the story either way, and he remembered the part where she turned into a hawk, so it seemed fitting. At any rate, the happy screech from the owl on his head seemed to mean approval.

“ She looks eager to start proving herself to you.” Draco’s mother told him, the fond look and soft smile still on her face. “Go write to your friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JSYK Ceridwen is pronounced with a ‘k’ sound :)


	4. September

One of the first things Hal noticed, walking through the station and boarding the train, greeting mates from his year, was that most of them had transformed from children into teenagers over the summer. Girls and boys no longer sat together; instead, girls gathered in giggling gaggles (a fantastic alliteration he was totally stealing from Fred and George) and boys, forced to do the same (not giggle, but group with other boys), did they best to look absolutely cool about it, when really they were eyeing the girls worriedly, convinced they were whispering about them. Hal caught a few bits of conversation here and there, and it seemed to be more likely they were comparing cosmetic charms and muggle makeup than talking about boys.

Boys, on the other hand, were very much talking about girls – not Hal and his friends particularly, but he did overhear several groups wondering if a girl or another would be interested in them, or commenting on how so and so had tits now,  or what it would be like to kiss a girl . Hal was  uncomfortably reminded of Nils and Francezka,  and he  really did not want to think about them. He  was glad his own mates  were more interested in talking  about  their trips to Egypt and France, or Quidditch. 

Even when Ginny and Luna joined them  for a bit for chat on the platform before skipping off to meet their friends  on the train, they commandeered Hermione and Draco to talk about a book series they’d all read that summer and had them all in fits because the last one wasn’t out yet.  Would Simon reach his goal without turning into a Dark Wizard? Would Renata have to chose between her loyalty to her  Noble House and her developing feelings for  her companion ? And what would happen to the newly-hatched baby dragon?  And sure, their conversation was a little bit about boys – but fictional ones. 

Neville had arrived late, and as they’d waited for him on the platform, by the time they boarded the train, the compartments were nearly all occupied already – not necessarily full, but since they were looking to fit seven (Pan had ditched out of confronting his fellow Slytherins for now), they needed one that was almost empty.  In the end, they went back to one they had dismissed at first, because there was an adult asleep in there. Clearly everyone had done the same, and it was still empty save from the man.

“Come on.” Anthony encouraged them to pile into the compartment. “It’s this or stand in the corridor.”

They all followed, recognising this as the better solution, and  Hal felt a little thrill at how splitting up  into smaller groups clearly wasn’t even an option. It was still weird, even after  the  two previous year s , going off to school without Ley, and he missed him a lot in the first few days, so it lifted him up to be reminded that his friends were right there by his side. 

T hey all spared a cautious glance to the man. Traditionally nobody used the Hogwarts Express if they weren’t a student – mostly because the train would already be filled to the brim with them, and it wasn’t the most peaceful way to travel – but there were occasions where people living and/or working in Hogsmead would catch a ride. Hogwarts staff would already be in the castle,  they got there a couple of days ahead of the students to get everything in order.

Whoever he was, he looked worst for wear. Though he was tall, and looked fairly young in spite of a dullness in his light brown hair that hinted at him going grey already, his face was gaunt and pale, making the purple bruises under his eyes all the more obvious. As impressive as these were, however, they did not distract from the long, slashing scars across his face, making him look like he’d been mauled by a tiger (as per Neville’s whispered comment). Huddled in a rather shabby cloak, he was leaning on a suitcase that had also seen better days, bearing his name – _R. J. Lupin_ – with a large book, which actually looked rather soft and squishy, as a makeshift pillow against the window. He looked so exhausted, like he hadn’t slept for days and probably wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, that they relaxed a bit and allowed themselves to chat, though in carefully low voices so as not to disturb him.

F inally able to take her out of her cage, Draco was officially introducing Ceridwen to everyone, gushing about how beautiful and well-behaved she was. Of course, they all had already met her, as Draco had been using her to send letters to all of them for the last week of the holidays, but they still humoured him, and took this chance to pet her and compliment her while she wasn’t clacking her beak to urge them to write back (as Hal had found out, she did not tolerate delays if a response was expected, and would wait and look over judgmentally until she could fly back to her master with a return letter).  Sil,  curled up in his cat bed Hal could use as a carrier, was eyeing her a little suspiciously, but he seemed okay with sharing a space with her. He’d shot nastier looks at Scabbers on many occasions, now that he was big enough to stare down the rat. Wisely, Ron’s pet avoided him.

Which did not stop Ron from complaining at length about how much stress his poor rat was under.  No matter how many ways they tried to tell him he really was an old rat, and a trip to hot Egypt wouldn’t have helped, Ron was convinced it was the other animals’ presence that gave him anxiety issues.

“Two cats and an owl now, all of which can eat him.” He moaned.

He liked Little Silver alright, and seemed to have no objections to Ceri  (other that these two were, in fact, animals that would have rat on the menu) , but he was certainly vocal about Hermione’s new pet. After the trial, she’d gone looking for an owl, and managed to come back having purchased a half- K neazle  that looked like  a  squashed miniature lion. Nobody had wanted him,  the shop owner had informed her,  and she’ d fell in love with  him  half on that basis  and would hear nothing against  her decision.  Ron though the creature was evil incarnate and was only waiting for an opportunity to murder Scabbers. To be fair to him, Crookshanks – and really, Hal did not want to know how Hermione had come up with that name – did hiss every time the rat was is in line of sight.

“They could eat Trevor too, and you don’t hear Nev go on about it.” Draco pointed out, rolling his eyes.

“Nobody’s eating anyone.” Hermione added with an eye-roll of her own. “They are all clever pets and they can recognise other pets.”

Ron made a non-committal grumbling sound, and patted his jacket pocket where Scabbers slept, but didn’t say anything else on the matter – he could tell when he was outnumbered. Neville was commenting on how he was not sure Trevor was a clever pet at all, when the train suddenly came to a stop. Before any of them could open their mouths to comment or question it, the lights went out, as well as the heating judging by how cold it got.

“For Merlin’s sake.” Pan muttered.

“It got really dark outside, didn’t it?” Anthony commented.

It was still only the middle of the afternoon at most, but it was as if night had fallen early. The sky was so heavy with dark grey clouds that barely any sunlight filtered through.

T hey started hearing yelps, if not screams, from other compartments, and it got colder still. Hal started feeling like he wanted to curl into a ball, potentially crawl under the seat, and close his eyes for a long, long time.

“This is not natural.” Hermione said, her voice shaky.

“You think?” Draco retorted, but he did not sound overconfident either.

The cries from the rest of the train stopped – in fact, any sound stopped, a heavy silence falling for a few seconds, before they heard a swishing sound coming nearer. All of them were holding their breath, sharing worried looks, though all of them drew out their wands to, read to face whatever was happening. Hal saw a puff of mist escape his mouth as frost crept over the windows, and then the door was moving, opening, and  _something_ was there, but it didn’t matter anymore.

The screams were in his head now, and the cold was in his bones, and the darkness was all-encompassing and crushing him, and he felt himself fall to his knees, and he saw no reason not to stay there, and sink even lower, and never get up again.  The screams had words, though Hal could not focus on what they said; they were desperate, a plea for life, followed by agony. Death. The screams were hopeless. Everything was hopeless.

He became vaguely conscious of a bright white light, and the feeling ebbed away, a little, enough that he could take a breath. The air didn’t feel so cold, and when he opened his eyes (which he felt he had to do if only to make sure he wasn’t dead), it was lighter again. A flurry of voices, still shaky, and relieved sighs, though still laced with fear, filled the space around Hal, and pushed the terrible screams out of his head.

He had collapsed onto the compartment floor, barely propped up against the edge of the seat. Draco was crouching next to him, his face full of worry, and a second later, a larger hand landed on Hal’s shoulder.

“Here, eat some of this.”

Hal looked up, to the previously asleep man – Lupin – handing him a large chunk of chocolate. Reaching for it in a trembling hand and looking around, he saw that all his friends had a piece. They looked pale and shaken, though none of them was on the floor. Hal struggled to his feet, enough to drop himself back onto a seat.

“I promise it will help.” The man added, addressing all of them, who hadn’t started eating his offering yet.

Hal took a tentative bite, and was surprised to find warmth flooding his limbs again, clearing the fog in his thoughts. He eagerly ate more, and he could see his friends doing the same.

“What was that?” Hermione was the first to recover enough to ask, her need for knowledge clearly overcoming any emotions felt in the past few minutes.

“A Dementor.” Lupin replied.

“Merlin.” Neville breathed, amongst the others’ gasps.

“What was it doing here?” Anthony wondered.

“Looking for Sirius Black, I would assume.” Lupin suggested.

“On the _train_?” Draco raised an eyebrow.

“As good a way as any to get around.” The man said.

Hal did not miss the way he glanced briefly at him. Right. Black was supposedly after him. It would make sense for him to try to get to Hogwarts.

“Who was screaming?” He asked, instead of focusing on that particular new development of his life.

Everyone looked at him.

“No one was screaming.” Ron said. “I mean, there were a few from the rest of the train, but…”

“I heard screaming.” Hal insisted.

“Sometimes…” Lupin started carefully. He cleared his throat when all the children directed his attention to him. “Dementors are known to make you feel hopelessness and despair. In close proximity, that can translate into reliving your worst memories, or the time in which you’ve been at your most vulnerable. If those moments were particularly strong or traumatising… you can be rather affected. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He added.

Hal hadn’t feel ashamed – up to that moment.  None of hi s friends had reacted quite as strongly. 

“But what strong moment did I…” He started saying, thinking out loud, before snapping his mouth shut abruptly.

First he had thought about the whole ordeal in the Chamber of Secrets, because he couldn’t think of a moment he had been more scared and vulnerable, but the screams in his head hadn’t matched that, so in ruling it out, he didn’t see what else could be traumatising to that extent. But it didn’t have to be something he remember consciously, did it. Looking at everyone’s face, they had all reached the same conclusion. Hal’s parents had been murdered in front of him, the Killing Curse had been aimed right at his face. If that wasn’t traumatising enough…

So the screams had been  James and Lily Potter ’ s screams. The pleas  had been  for their life, for his.  Hal felt like he was going to be sick.  He pushed his glasses off his eyes to rub his face, feeling a thin layer sweat on his forehead – not enough to make his hair stick, rather like he’d just walked through mist.

“Harry.” Lupin said kindly.

Hal’s instinct was to ask how the man knew his name, but yeah, duh, everyone did. He’d probably just exposed his scar, too. Self-conscious about it now, he carefully repositioned his glasses and brushed his hair back forward, the way he usually did to make sure the marred part of his face was mostly covered.

“I’m fine.” Hal sighed. “Thanks for the chocolate.”

“No worries.” Lupin smiled. “It always help, I find.”

“What was that spell you used?” Hermione enquired.

It was Draco who answered. “A Patronus charm.” He said. Everyone turned to him and a faint blush crept up his cheeks. “I’ve seen my mother use one. They are the best defence against Dementors, but they are also used to carry messages.”

“Quite right, Mister Malfoy.” Lupin nodded approvingly.

Hal was briefly surprised he knew Draco’s name too, but then he remembered the Malfoys were quite renowned after all, and the Wizarding world really was not that big. Draco’s dad had been a prominent figure in his time, and Draco apparently looked quite a lot like him, the way Hal did his own dad. Draco’s almost-white hair would probably give him away to anyone who knew of the major Wizarding families. Lupin would probably guess Ron was a Weasley too, come to think of it.

“Patronuses are cast using the strength of happy memories.” The man expanded. “They are essentially the opposite of what Dementors make you feel, and they are too concentrated for them to feed off. They tend not to stick around.”

“I heard Dementors would be stationed around Hogwarts.” Neville said quietly. “For Black.” 

An uncomfortable shiver rippled around the compartment.

“Could we learn how to do that spell?” Hermione suggested.

Lupin shook his head, a little ruefully.

“It is extremely advanced magic – don’t take it personally.” He smiled, seeing Hermione’s face starting to look like he was straight out insulting her intelligence. “Many grown wizards can’t manage it. I won’t even be teaching that to my NEWTs levels.”

They all startled or gaped  and expressed variations of  _Teaching?!_ . Hal had started to think maybe he would be working at the Apothecary in Hogsmead, what with his knowledge of defensive spells and the properties of chocolate. Teachers should already be at the school, ready to welcome the students.

“Introductions are indeed overdue.” The man smiled. “I am Remus Lupin, you new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. It is lovely to meet you all.”

The name Remus rang a vague bell somewhere in the back of Hal’s head, but he got distracted from pursuing the thought as they all introduced themselves in turn. He could see in Lupin’s face that he indeed recognised the name Weasley, and Longbottom – and obviously Potter. There was something almost wistful in the way he looked at him, Neville and Ron.

“How come you’re not already there?” Anthony was the one to ask, though only because he beat the rest of them to it.

“I was ill for the past few days.” Lupin answered easily. It could explain how worn out he looked. “I had to delay my arrival by a bit, but rest assured that this will not affect your education.”

He looked amused at how Hermione almost sighed in relief.

They spent the rest of the trip pleasantly chatting with the professor; he was curious as to why they were calling Pan  _Pan_ when he had introduced himself as Eitan Parkinson, and Pan cautiously explained his situation, which he seemed accepting of. He also asked about the nickname  _Hal_ , which launched Hal into talking about Ley for a bit. Sil came out of his basket, sniffing Lupin curiously, while Crookshanks stared judgmentally from the luggage rack above their heads.

* *

*

Notwithstanding the dark cold spell the Dementor’s presence had provoked, it had been a pleasantly warm day, and when they were told they would be a slight delay with the first years (two entire boats had toppled, apparently, following a too enthusiastic girl wanting to show off a spell she’d just learnt on her brand new wand, and sending seven students into the lake), a lot of the older years decided to hang outside, enjoying the last few rays of sunshine before heading into the Great Hall for the Sorting and the feast.

Draco and his friends sat in a corner of the courtyard, little groups orbiting all around them, everyone catching up with friends they’d not found on the train. Anthony had his back to them as he greeted Michael and Terry, Dean and Seamus attached themselves to one side as they started chatting to Ron, Hal and Neville, while Blaise loudly came to greet Pan and Draco, followed by the other Slytherins in their year, more subdued and wary-looking.

Draco kept stealing glances towards Hal; he looked better, after the episode on the train, though he was still a little pale – something Draco would only know  from seeing  him over the summer, because he was otherwise  still  unbearably, delightfully tanned from his holiday.  It made his eyes shine even greener, and Draco had to resist the urge a couple of time to lean in, pull the glasses off his face and get lost in those eyes. But all pining aside, Draco was a little worried about  him . The Dementor really had affected him badly, and if Professor Lupin’s assessment was correct, Draco could only imagine what memory that encounter had brought back to the surface for Hal. It made Draco shiver just to think about it.

“Stop it.” Pan suddenly poked his arm.

“What?” Draco startled, turning back to him.

“Staring at him like that.” Pan rolled his eyes. He seemed to consider it for a second, and added. “Not that I can actually blame you. I’m saying this completely objectively, I’m not attracted to him in any way, but I have eyes, and… he’s fit, isn’t he?”

Out of instinct, Draco almost started protesting vocally, but in the end he just sighed.  _Fit_ was a good word for it. Draco could see that most of their year had stopped being children, or were at least halfway there, and you could see what they were becoming, and what Hal was becoming certainly was very handsome. Not that Draco thought he was repulsive himself, but he had a pointy chin and hadn’t quite filled up his sharp features yet the way he vaguely remember his father had. Hal, on the other hand, was a little bit perfect, not that Draco was biased in any way.  Even if he was, quite objectively like Pan had said, Hal  just looked like how a Renaissance painter or sculptor would depict a young god.

Draco was saved from saying something embarrassing ( _He’s beautiful_ ) as Blaise started telling a mad story to the rest of the Slytherins with emphatic waves of his arms. Daphne, who clearly thought it was hilarious, kept trying to get Pan to join in with the cheer – “Right, Pansy?” she kept throwing his way. Or “oh, Merlin, like that time Pansy had owl shit in her hair”. Every time, Pan flinched  at the name or pronoun , and soon enough everyone in their little group had noticed, and they regrouped around him, semi-consciously making their ranks closer in a show of support. 

“You should talk to them.” Draco pointed out. “You can’t just sit there and pretend you’re not going through something important. They’ll notice soon enough.”

“Yeah, they will.” Pan replied moodily.

The school had not only accepted his change of name, but also his request to be moved to the boys’ dormitory, so even if nobody paid attention at the start of any class when teachers would take the register, they would hardly be able to fail to notice that.

“Don’t you want it to come from you?”

“That’s easy for _you_ to say when you _can_ just sit there and pretend you’re not in-” He stopped himself when Draco stomped on his foot.

“Pretend what?” Ron prompted, oblivious.

Draco tried to communicate telepathically, ‘I can’t believe you almost said _in love with Hal_ , in front of Hal!’, though he suspected he only succeeded in appearing demented.

“Nothing.” Draco tried.

“If you are asking _me_ to be brave…” Pan argued.

Taking advantage of Seamus and Dean suddenly, and with excellent timing, starting an impromptu game of football – Dean had been very intense in trying to make the Muggle sport popular among his classmates – and the others’ attention being diverted for a moment, Draco turned to Pan to hiss between his teeth.

“Are you seriously outing me right now?”

“No, alright, I’m sorry.” Pan whispered back. “I didn’t mean to say that. But you can’t force me to tell them either.”

“In your case though-” Draco started.

“ I was going to tell them once we’re in the common room tonight.” Pan  interrupted him .

“Tell us what?”

Unfortunately, as Dean and Seamus had managed to rope in Hal, Ron, Anthony and Neville into their game, and Blaise was done with his heroic tale, the Slytherins had navigated closer,  sat down on the vacated spaces on the stone bench, and Daphne had overheard Pan’s last sentence.

“ Er.” Pan said, caught unprepared.

He exchanged a look with Blaise, which turned out to be a mistake.

“He knows?” Daphne realised. “What is it? If he knows, you have to tell me.” She demanded.

“Us.” Theodore corrected. He waved at Vince and Greg – Millicent was thankfully absent, as much as she sometimes hung around with them. “We’re all friends, right? Or do you prefer being an honorary Gryffindor or Ravenclaw these days?”

Pan sighed at the useless rivalry. “We are  _ all _ friends.” He confirmed with insistence. “And it’s got nothing to do with Houses, so drop it.”

“Well, go on then.” Daphne prompted again when Pan said nothing else.

Pan took a breath, and just ripped off the plaster. “I’m going to transition my body to male.” He said plainly. “I’ve been feeling off my entire life, and I’ve come to terms with the fact that it is because I am a boy, and I want my physical appearance to match that.”

There was silence for a moment, before Vince and Greg laughed, Theo vaguely snorted, and Daphne let out a little squeal.

“You’re joking, right?” She checked.

“I’m dead serious.” Pan replied levelly. “I’ve changed my name to Eitan Parkinson, you’ll hear it in class, and I’ll be staying in the boys’ dorms.”

“What if we see you naked?” Greg asked.

Pan raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you watch each other naked a lot?” He argued.

“Guess not.” Greg shrugged.

“Same, then.” Pan mimicked his shrug.

“But you’re still a girl.” Theo said, clearly not quite processing.

“I’m a boy.” Pan repeated. “This _ body _ is like a girl’s, yes, for now. The transition process will fix that.”

“It’s just weird.” Vince commented.

“ Just weird?” Daphne repeated, sounding outraged. “It’s… it’s… how long have you known?”

“Like I said, pretty much my entire life.” Pan said. “But it was something that was hard to understand for a long time, even for me, so I suppose I fully came to terms with it last summer. And I thought about it a lot during the year, and decided to go ahead with the physical transition.”

Daphne look appalled.  “ A year!?” She  shrieked. “I told you about my p-”  She interrupted  herself on the last word and mouthed  _period_ quietly. “How could you not say anything then? This is  _gross_ !”

She looked on the verge of tears, but that clearly didn’t soften Pan’s reaction, whose nostrils flared.

“What’s gross is your reaction.” He spat back.

“Now, that’s not fair.” Theo tried to argue. “She’s only saying-”

“No, no!” Pan stopped him right there. “What’s _not fair_ is for me to have to _come out_ to you while you sit there and _judge_ and feel _so relieved_ that you can call yourselves _normal_. What the fuck is even normal? Everyone is different!”

“Not everyone is a _freak_!” Daphne shouted back.

She let out another wordless, frustrated scream, earning herself a few glances from other students around them, and causing the four boys who had wandered off to the football game to edge closer again, sensing a friend in need. They didn’t try to say anything though, just like Hermione who was clearly biting the inside of her cheeks to stop herself from flying off the handle, respecting that Pan had to manage this. Daphne stomped to her feet and stormed off. Blaise sighed. The other three shifted awkwardly, clearly unsure if they should take such a decisive stand. Draco caught Vince and Greg looking at _him_ like he had to give them their social cues. Pan gave them a vicious look.

“If this is how you all feel, you can fuck right off.” He told them.

They remained seated and silent for a few  moments , but eventually, Theo sighed and stood up.

“I’m sorry.” He said. “But I quite like my life, and hanging out with you lot is not the way to keep it that way.” 

He gestured vaguely at ‘ them lot’  – queers, Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, Muggle-borns, blood traitors, take your pick,  Draco thought. 

“This is becoming a little too… No.” He concluded. He nodded at Pan. “Good luck with everything.”

He made for the castle entrance, and spurred on by a barely perceptible jerk of his head, Vince and Greg scrambled to their feet and followed after him.

“Well.” Blaise spoke after a while, in the tense silent that followed. “That went well.”

Pan seemed to deflate, dropping his arms to his side from where he’d crossed them defensively across his chest.

“Guess I could have handled it better.” He muttered.

“I think _they_ could have handled it better.” Draco came to his defence.

“No, I mean, I get it.” Pan shook his head. “Not everyone can be as accepting as you guys. I’ll always be grateful to you for that, and I know I can’t expect it of everyone.”

“You were right, though.” Hermione said somewhat fiercely, in her _I have a new cause_ voice. “Why would you have to come out specifically and everyone otherwise assumes they know who you are? I think we should all come out.” 

She gave each of them a challenging look, and then put a hand on her chest.

“I’m a girl.” She proclaimed. “And I am straight. I like boys.”

“I appreciate the sentiment.” Pan smiled. He glanced over at Draco. “But I don’t think people should have to say anything if they’re not ready.”

Draco shot him a grateful look, but he wasn’t the only one who looked relieved.

“You might not know even know yet, anyway.” Pan added with a shrug. “I don’t know.”

Ron frowned. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“I’m trans, obviously.” Pan explained. “But I’m not sure if I’m attracted to boys or girls, or both, or neither. I’ve not really thought about it yet, nor do I want to – got enough to figure out at the moment.”

“ Such as, how are you going to  _ survive _ without Daph’s friendship?” Blaise joked.

It defused the tension immediately – he was good at that, Draco had to hand it to him.

* *

*

One of the newly-sorted Gryffindors was Thomas Lowe, the kid Hal had met with his family in Windermere the previous spring, and after saying hello to him (very much like an over-enthusiastic puppy) he immediately latched on to Colin Creevey, who seemed quite happy to take on the role of big brother at Hogwarts a year early – his own brother would be starting the following year.

“Your fanclub is growing.” Ron snorted.

Hal glared at him, which was entirely inefficient. They made their way out of the common room – where the two younger boys had greeted him (making Hal wonder if they had been waiting there for an hour or so to make sure they wouldn’t miss him) like he was the rising sun himself – to head out to the Divination classroom, up its own tower.

“Did Hermione seem weird to you?” Hal asked Ron in an attempt at changing the subject.

That was rather more successful as Ron considered it. Upon arrival the night before, Hermione had been borrowed by McGonagall – who had also taken a minute to ask Hal how he was, having clearly heard about the episode with the Dementor on the train – but when questioned about what it had been about, Hermione had just replied ‘classes’ rather evasively. Hal had caught a glimpse of her timetable, which seemed considerable fuller than the rest of theirs, but she’d shoved it away in her bag before they could get a good look. That was quite the departure from second year where she had talked their ears off for forty-five minutes, commenting on the organisation of their classes and her thoughts on the matter in excruciating details.

“She seemed a bit  tense .” Ron admitted. “Like, she’s already acting like exam-time Hermione.” He sighed, shaking his head. “It’s the first day, she needs to chill. She’s never going to make it through the year if she’s already putting that kind of pressure on herself.”

“ It’s probably the new classes.” Hal diagnosed. “She doesn’t cope well with the unknown.”

They were already at the top, waiting for the hatch to the classroom to open, when Hermione joined them, out of breath.

“ I’ve heard she’s got her lodgings up here as well.” She immediately started informing them. “And she barely ever comes out. I mean, I think I’ve  only ever  seen her at the start and end of year feasts? You know, she’s that woman with the bangles and the big glasses?”

H al and Ron nodded non-committally, absorbing – they were used to that by now. Even when not paying attention, they would retain some of it by osmosis, and if it was really important, Hermione would repeat it.  Not that they were never paying attention, Hal did like to listen to Hermione, she always knew  _ so much _ . It was just that there was a lot of information.

H ermione was still going on about someone called Cassandra Trelawney – whom Hal didn’t think was the same person as Professor Trelawney – when the trapdoor opened, and the students started climbing the ladder.

The whole hour that ensue d was utterly ridiculous. The woman was clearly  a lunatic ,  living in a mad world of her own,  and Hal could see why nobody took the subject seriously. Even Hermione  became this close to kicking off , and it took a lot for her to openly disapprove of a teacher or discipline.  If Hermione thought she couldn’t learn anything, what hope was there for the rest of them.

Hal had his death predicted to him seven different times, and involuntarily riled up the professor when he commented that Oh yeah, he’d met a big black dog over the summer actually, he’d been very friendly. Apparently it was death omen though, and Trelawney almost howled, tears filling her eyes, as she went on about how brave he was, welcoming death like a friend. Hal was doing no such thing, but he was too busy elbowing Ron in the ribs (who could barely breathe from laughing so hard) to have an argument about it with her.

Hermione did not seem to see the funny side, and she was still incensed about it when they went to lunch, in spite of McGonagall’s reassurances, during her own class, that Professor Trelawney did tend to predict at least a few students’ death each year. So far, anyone who had been the unfortunate target of her predictions had remained perfectly healthy. 

“ It’s still a disturbing thing to do!” Hermione ranted on. “She could provoke real anxiety issues in sensitive people by saying that to them.”

“Hermione, I’m fine.” Hal rolled his eyes. “It’s clearly nonsense – didn’t you pay attention to anything else she ‘predicted’?” He went as far as making air quotes with his fingers. “Literally everything she guessed was wrong. I don’t think my impending death is any different.”

Hermione gave him a stern look, and when she opened her mouth to retort, Hal had a sinking feeling it would be something about a  B asilisk,  Quirrell , Voldemort, or a troll maybe, or all of the above.

“Hang on.” Draco came to the rescue before she had a chance to speak – though judging by his puzzled frown, he hadn’t particularly meant to time it that well. “You were in Arithmancy with us this morning. When did you go to Divination?”

Hermione simply pursed her lips, looking put out, and ignored Draco entirely to snap at Hal.

“You shouldn’t take it so lightly.” She told him. “It’s a nasty thing to do, to anyone, and the last thing we want with  _ you _ is a self-fulfilling prophecy. If we could go one year without some big threat to your life, honestly – she’s just, not helping, alright?”

Hal blinked at her as she picked up her bag and got up from the table, because it occurred to him that she really cared about him. Not that he hadn’t known, but – maybe he should be have been more aware of the impact his previous adventures had had on her.  They’d all come with him in first year even if he’d been the only one left with Quirrell, and j ust because he’d been the one  facing  the  B asilisk, and Draco had been the one possessed and they’d been the ones getting attacked by Lockhart…  that did not mean  she hadn’t been scared or affected.  Maybe he should have checked on all of his friends, made sure they were alright. He’d been so amazed at the support  _ they _ had given  _ him _ , he’d been entirely self-centred and hadn’t even considered how they could be feeling.

“Hermione…” He started, not knowing if he should apologise, of even talk about the revelation he’d just had. Wouldn’t it make him look even more oblivious?

“Time for Care of Magical Creatures.” She said tersely, before she walked away.

Anthony frowned. “I thought she’d gone for Ancient Runes.” He said. “She was banging on about it at breakfast this morning, how she wasn’t sure she’d done enough preparatory reading.”

“Guys.” Neville piped up, and when they turned to look at him, he had a confused frown on his face mirroring Draco’s. “She also was in Muggle Studies this morning. We sat together.  Blaise can back me up. ”

They all looked at each other, as if trying to confirm none of them had hallucinated, and all those classes  _ had _ been taking place at the same time.

“Blaise is  also  taking Ancient Runes.” Draco pointed out. “Let’s ask him later, and… then we can talk to Hermione about being in  two or  three different places at the same time.”

Care of Magical Creatures was about as mad as Divination had been,  though at least they learnt how to deal with those monstrous books Hagrid had sent them – Hagrid, who was  _ teaching _ the bloody class. Hal, not for the first time, seriously questioned Dumbledore’s sanity. Hagrid’s love for Magical Creatures was obvious, but it was also reckless, and did not mix well into an environment that was conductive to teaching, let along safe. Starting them right off on  h ippogriffs, who could tear your arm off if you looked at them the wrong way, was proof of them –  not to mention letting them  _ fly _ on them.

But  Hal  would be lying he he said he didn’t love it , as terrifying as it had been.  Of course Hagrid had picked him to be the first up, under the stunned star e s of his friends and the rest of the gathered students – although the class was highly popular, the groups for electives were reduced enough that all Houses were usually taught at the same time, rather than the usual pattern of Gryffindor with Slytherins ( _ why _ did they do that? Were they trying to start fights?) and Ravenclaws with Hufflepuffs. Hal and the others were thrilled – those were at least a handful of classes they could be together in.

When Hal came down, windswept and his hair worst than ever,  Hermione commended his bravery.  S he seemed to want to forget she had been upset earlier, or she was just pretending it was all fine. Ron  looked a little envious, though not enough to volunteer to try. Neville and Draco both looked at him like he’d grown an extra head. Anthony was up next flying on his own  h ippogriff. Pa n,  standing cross-armed apart from the other Slytherins (Daphne was clearly very much not ready to be on speaking terms again), was just ignoring Hagrid, who made a few efforts to try and drag him in. The issue might not have been the creatures as much as Hagrid who kept repeating “Miss Parkinson, would you like to try?”. 

“ They’ve been  _ told _ .” Pan seethed when they were on their way back up to the castle. “I spoke to Snape last night, he said all the teachers were aware.”

“It’ll take some people more time to get used to it.” Anthony commented. “Or they might even never get it. Ignore them, mate.”

“Urgh.” Pan replied.

A s they reached the castle, and started heading to their respective next class – Defence for the Gryffindors and Pan, Transfiguration for Anthony and Draco – they were joined by Blaise and Hermione coming down the stairs from the Ancient Runes classroom, clearly discussing the lesson they’d just had. They all turned around, and realised that Hermione was indeed not right behind them as they had thought, as she had been when they’d left the hippogriff pen.

“ Right.” Draco drawled. “I think we need to talk.”

The caught-red-handed look on Hermione’s face told them he wasn’t wrong.

“ Tonight.” She raised her hand, interrupting any question.

* *

*

That night after dinner, they met up in a corner of the Great Hall – where apparently, someone had started a Chess Club, and it delayed things somewhat as Ron wanted to join. They had to drag him off, though he did register and collect the information for the meets and tournaments throughout the year.

In the evenings, the four long tables were replaced with smaller ones where students from any House could study, play, organise clubs such as the chess one… It was perfect for them – Pan’s coming out had catalysed for him and Blaise among the Slytherins, and they spent a lot more time with them now than they did with their housemates, though Blaise was still friendly with Theodore Nott and at least tolerated by the others. Understand: too influential to be dismissed – similarly, they were cordial to Draco, even as they had stopped talking to Pan.

Once they were all sat around their own table, Hermione sighed, bracing herself.

“Okay, so. Last year when we were choosing classes, I couldn’t make up my mind, and I went to speak to Professor McGonagall thinking she might be able to help. I think I ended up pitching each and everyone one of the subjects equally, and honestly I was even more undecided by the end of it.”

“And somehow from there, you ended up taking _all_ of them.” Blaise shortcut it. “How?”

Hermione bit her lip. “You understand you can’t tell anyone, right?” She worried. “I’m not meant to mention it, it’s really confidential, and-”

“Hemy.” Pan interrupted, surprising everyone with the nickname. “This is us. Do you really have to ask?”

They exchanged looks, realising just how much they had already stuck with each other for, in just two years. They were all in it together – all of it. Hermione gave Pan, and all of them, a smile.

“Time-Turner.” She dropped with a firm nod.

She explained some more, to Hal in particular, as he’d never heard of a Time-Turner, though the others also only had a vague idea how they worked. As it turned out, they were highly regulated – even Wizards, with all that they broke the laws of physics on a daily basis, understood that playing around with time was just a disaster waiting to happen – and Hermione had had to sign a 35-page agreement before she was entrusted with one. She was allowed to go back one hour at a time, to catch all of the classes that were held at the same time, and must not be seen doing it.

“Was it your idea?” Neville asked with admiration. “I bet it was your idea.”

“Well, not quite.” Hermione admitted, with a little pout like she really would have loved it to have been her idea. “I mean, I didn’t even know these things existed. No, I had a rather more Muggle approach to the whole thing, at first. I asked Professor McGonagall if there would be a way to record the classes so I could attend half and watch the rest, but then attend each set on alternate weeks to make sure I had presence with every teacher and to be able to ask questions, and really the only thing I was requesting was would the professors be able to arrange things in a way exam didn’t fall on the same day for two classes on the same slot, or if not, could I take it at any other point, and I had a draft timetable prepared and… Yeah, she made about the face you’re making right now.” She interrupted herself with a laugh. “Then she told me about Time-Turners.”

“ So she basically thought it was easier to hand a thirteen year-old an extremely sensitive piece of time-travelling equipment, rather than let you carry on talking.” Anthony summarised, tongue-in-cheek.

Hermione rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “She made the case with the Ministry – apparently it’s not the first time it’s been granted, it just takes some doing. The initial agreement is I use it until Halloween, when we have to decide if we want to carry on with the classes we’ve picked or drop some of them. We’ll sort of have to apply again for me to use it for the rest of the year if I want to keep attending at least two that are on the same slot.”

“ I’d bet you will, but I don’t think anyone would bet against it.” Ron said.

“I have just one question.” Blaise raised his hand nonchalantly.

“Yes?” Hermione encouraged him.

“Will you still be friends with us when you’re Minister  for Magic?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think there was any way the group wouldn’t find out about Hermione’s peculiar timetable and ask how she does it. In the book it’s such a big plot device that Harry and Ron conveniently let Hermione change the subject and never question it again, but that doesn’t seem very realistic. 
> 
> Just to help keep track, here’s a summary of what electives they’re all taking:
> 
> Hal & Ron: Divination + Care of Magical Creatures  
> Draco, Anthony & Pan: Arithmancy + Care of Magical Creatures  
> Neville: Muggle Studies + Care of Magical Creatures  
> Blaise: Muggle Studies (or as he calls it, Politics) + Ancient Runes  
> Hermione: (Divination), Arithmancy, Muggle Studies + Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes
> 
> For plot purposes, Divination/Arithmancy/Muggle Studies are held at the same time, and Care/Runes. Guess for their year nobody (but Hermione) was taking classes in a combination that didn’t work with that ;)
> 
> Of the less canonical classes, I suspect Hermione also takes Magical Theory, and Hal is in Art – it might not crop up in this one, but his drawing skills will definitely make further appearances in later years. I had it in my mind when first starting this verse that Hal would be drawing excellent pencil sketches, not sure why, but I’m sticking with it even if it’s not prominent in the plot!


	5. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve made it so they start studying the Boggart in October – it might be in September in the books, can’t remember, but that chapter was getting too long ;) (honestly we’re almost halfway through the word-count of the first two books and we’ve only done three months!)
> 
> Warning for uncomfortable memories of previous dub-con.

Classes with Lupin were  _ amazing _ . The bar hadn’t been very  set very  high  the previous two years, admittedly , but Hal knew he would still have been thinking that if  Quirrell and Lockhart  hadn’t each been their own kind of car crash. Defence was already his favourite subject on paper, but this year it definitely far surpassed any other classes they were taking. They were actually learning so much, and  _ doing  _ so much , getting to practice spells and learn about creatures they may very well encounter. Such as-

“The Boggart.” Lupin announced somewhat proudly after they’d made their way into an empty, dusty classroom that day. “Has anyone ever encountered one or even hear of it?”

A few hands were raised, and Lupin pointed to Lavender.

“Miss Brown.”

“My grandad had one in the loft one summer.” She said. “They like dark spaces. But he wouldn’t let me get near and all he told me was that they were very scary. I was only six.”

“I believe it was wise of your grandfather to ask you to keep your distance.” Lupin smiled kindly. “They are very scary indeed – can anyone tell me why?”

Hermione and a few others had their hand in the air again,  and Lupin turned towards the Slytherins this time.

“Mister Parkinson.”

Hal spotted Daphne’s sneer – she still hadn’t gotten over it. Pan had told them the boys had actually been a lot better about it than the girls, after the first few days, once they’d gotten used to him sleeping in the same room. It helped that he was changing, too, from the potion treatment he had started with Snape, though that only seemed to make Daphne and Millie (who were closer now) want to hate him more.

“They take the form of what you fear the most.” Pan gave the answer. “ They shape-shift depending who’s closest, so not facing one alone is usually the first line of defence, it confuses them.”

“Very good.” Lupin nodded approvingly. “We would be very strong against it right now, as there’s so many of us. However, for the purpose of this class, I want you to learn how to face one on your own. You can encounter Boggarts quite commonly in old houses – or indeed schools.”

He went on explaining they were less likely to be encountered in public places, though he had heard of Boggart interventions in train stations and even a Muggle night-club once, so he believed any person was as likely as the next of meeting one at some point in their life. After showing them the incantation and explaining the process of defeating the Boggart through laughter, they formed a line, ready to go one at a time.

“What would it be for you,  _ Pansy _ ?” Hal heard Millicent sneer. “A vagina?”

“ We should hold an anatomy class then, since yours will be your own black heart.” Hal snapped back at her.

Pan gave him an odd look, as if he’d not expected him to stand up for him, or retort that quickly. Millie grumbled something back, but Hal dragged Pan away to further up the line, away from the Slytherin girls.

“Ignore them.” He told him.

“I was going to.” Pan replied with an amused smile. “You’re the one who jumped right in.”

Hal shrugged, unwilling to get into it, and used the excuse of being distracted by Lupin opening the wardrobe where the Boggart was held and the practical class starting in earnest.

The more people went, the more entertaining it seemed – some of the shapes the creature shifted to were truly terrifying, even as they were all different depending on someone’s deepest fear, but they always ended up turning into something utterly ridiculous, as was the purpose. A few students froze, but none of them remained petrified by their fear once encouraged by Lupin and their classmates. Even Ron pulled himself together, pale-faced and petrified as he was for a few moments, and defeated his ginormous spider with a fiercely cast spell. 

As impressive as the spider was, Hal was the most disturbed by Neville’s Boggart – because,  _ Snape _ ? A few students laughed at him for that, but all Hal could think was that Nev faced his apparently biggest fear  _ every, single, day _ , and if that didn’t make him the bravest among them,  Hal didn’t know what did – and by Pan’s. His turned into a truly disturbing scene of  _ her _ , his previous self, as a twenty-something pregnant woman in formal robes, Draco on her arm looking just as unhappy. Even when  Pan cast the spell and the figures morphed into his parents breaking into an absurd uncoordinated dance, some uneasiness hung in the air.

The quick succession of scary apparitions and laughter had distracted Hal from trying to think about what form his Boggart would take, and when his turn came… Lupin stepped in front of him.

“Right, enough for today!” He declared hastily, as the creature shifted behind him into a round glowing shape they couldn’t really identify before he quickly shooed it back into the wardrobe. “Those who didn’t have a go,  please come forward and write your names down on this sheet so I can see if we can organise another session. If not, or if you don’t wish to,  there will be more practical classes you’ll get to try your hands on. Now-”

Hal tried not to feel dejected as Lupin explained what their homework would be. There were ten minutes left to the end of the class, so enough time for a few more students, and  even if Lupin was saying they might get a chance to have a go next time,  he had the distinct feeling he’d been  _ stopped _ from facing the Boggart, voluntarily, and not because of time pressures.  Did Lupin think he wouldn’t be able to handle it, because he had seen him collapse on the train? With that thought, Hal suddenly knew exactly what form he would have had to face, had Lupin let him – a Dementor. Even just thinking about it now made a chill creep up his spine.

H e tuned out to Hermione’s running commentary as they made their way down to lunch – she was both frustrated she hadn’t gotten a chance to face the Boggart either, and wondering if it really had been the right thing to do to make kids face their deepest fears in front of the whole class, because surely that would fuel bullying if someone decided to exploit those fears, or they might be things you didn’t want everyone else to know.

“ He actually said before we started.” Ron pointed out. “To only come forward if you wanted to. He wasn’t forcing anyone.”

“Oh.” Hermione stopped, startled. “Did he?”

“Yeah.” Ron snorted. “You were too busy lecturing Parvati about how nobody knows what a Boggart looks like when they’re alone.”

Nobody else seemed to have noticed that Lupin had purposefully stopped the line when it had gotten to Hal’s turn, but Draco echoed his other thoughts about the class when they told him and Anthony about it, because he was incensed about Neville and uncomfortably intrigued about Pan.

“ Yeah, what exactly was that?” Blaise concurred. “Cause it was really creepy.”

“Being stuck in an arranged marriage, forced to have kids, I suppose.” Pan said dismissively, though they could all tell he was uncomfortable. He had a dry chuckle. “Basically becoming my mother.”

“And your arranged marriage would be with Draco?” Anthony frowned.

“Admittedly, that would have been the most likely match when we were both younger.” Draco recognised when Pan only shrugged.

T hey all winced, and implicitly agreed to shift the conversation to less disturbing subjects.

* *

*

That evening, Draco paid a visit to Severus.

“Draco.” He greeted him, as always a mixture of pleasantly surprised to see him and impatient already, like he was ready to tell him he didn’t have time as he would have most people. “Everything alright?”

Some concern always prevailed, though, and Draco would have smiled, but he forced his features to remain stern.

“I’m here about my friend.” He announced.

Severus had an almost non-existent facial reaction that was his version of an eye roll.

“What did I do to Mister Potter this time?” He asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Not Hal.” Draco corrected. “Neville.”

This time his godfather raised an eyebrow more visibly, and Draco expanded. “You have to stop bullying him.”

“I am not bullying him.” Sev sounded quietly indignant at the idea. “I treat him the same way as anyone who is this  _ abysmal  _ at potions.”

“You pick on him constantly.” Draco argued. “Maybe he would do better in class if he wasn’t spending it in a constant state of terror.”

“If Mister Longbottom isn’t able to-”

“His Boggart is you.” Draco interrupted him to reveal.

He could see the surprise clear on Sev’s feature for once, if only fleetingly before he composed himself. Draco still allowed a few seconds for that to sink in before he continued.

“We had a DADA class facing a Boggart.” He explained. “Neville’s turned into you. He is legitimately  _ terrified _ of you, so you need to stop making it worse, and help him get over that.”

Severus was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, he changed the subject – which was as good as an admission that Draco had had the last word on the previous matter.

“What was yours?” He asked.

“I didn’t have a go.” Draco replied.

He had in fact very carefully remained at the back of the class, because when Lupin had announced the exercise, he’d suddenly had a very clear vision of what his Boggart may be. Probably a crowd of his friends and other Hogwarts students, pointing and laughing because they’d found out about his hopeless crush on Hal. With Hal in the middle, giving him a disgusted look and telling him he was gross, and he’d ruined their friendship, and his feelings would never be returned. He knew it in himself that the real Hal would never actually react this cruelly – but the likelihood that he would turn him down with kindness and pity was high enough to fuel this irrational fear, and that had a very high chance of being what the Boggart would feed off.

Lupin wasn’t forcing anyone to face the Boggart in front of the whole class, though those who chose not to would have to hand in an extra foot of parchment, to at least give the theory of what shape they thought the Boggart would have taken and what they would have done to counter it. The professor had promised these revelations would remain entirely confidential and that he was there to talk if anyone wanted to discuss something specific with him. Draco was still not about to tell the truth – he’d make up something about being terribly afraid of bees, or something as plausibly mortifying if it were to be revealed in front of classmates, yet not so damaging for his teacher to know.

T hey talked about Lupin’s class for a little longer – Sev seemed disapproving of the whole idea of making them face a Boggart  (then again, Draco had noticed he seemed disapproving of everything his colleague did and possibly of his very existence) and Draco partly agreed, though he had really enjoyed the class, and appreciated the fact that the man considered them mature enough to actually learn about dark creatures and how to confront them. It certainly was an upgrade on the content of their Defence  c lasses the previous years, not to mentions the ones who had taught them.

“Might be a good time to replenish my stocks of Calming Draught and Dreamless Sleep.” Severus muttered. “No doubt Poppy will  be seeing flocks of traumatised children waking up from nightmares in the next few days.”

Again, Draco thought he wasn’t wrong. Some of the visions had been truly horrible, even to the rest of the audience, so for the student whose greatest fear it actually was, to see it embodied in front of them… Anthony’s in particular had been rattling – his little sister, lying on the ground with a trickle of blood seeping from her lips and glassy eyes, her neck clearly broken. Anthony had roared “NO” and quickly cast the spell, making the little figure jump up with a giggle and skip about repeating “Pranked you, pranked you!”, which had made Anthony laugh, but Draco knew the scene had still shaken him badly.

“It almost happened.” Anthony had confessed quietly to Draco on their way out of the class. “Last year, I left my broom in the garden for a minute while I went to get a glass of water, and she grabbed it, she wanted to try it. Next thing we knew, she was fifteen feet high and screaming and letting go of the handle to cover her eyes.” He had a full-body shiver. “My dad floated her to the ground, but if he hadn’t been close enough… I’ve never been so scared in my life.”

D raco had only be able to give him a quick hug,  but Anthony had smiled like it’d helped.

“So, can I trust you to give Neville a break?” Draco asked before taking his leave, when it became clear Sev was starting to steer him out.

“I will make an effort.” His godfather replied drily.

“ Thank you.” Draco inclined his head.

* *

*

Hal woke up in a cold sweat, almost feeling the weight of the basilisk still on him, the piercing pain in his arm, the blood trickling down his body. It hadn’t happened in months – he wasn’t so sure what had triggered the nightmare, maybe seeing everyone’s fears played out earlier that day – but it was just as unpleasant as it had been over the summer.

More of the dream came back to him as he slipped  out of bed and walked quietly  to the bathroom, the cold stone grounding against the sole of his feet.  Pretty much the whole evening, from where Draco had found him in the Great Hall,  had replayed  itself in the dream ,  and it was somehow worse than on the day from knowing exactly what was to come,  the dark sense of foreboding crushing, leaving Hal even now with a nasty feeling . The dream had even included  his  conversation with Myrtle before he went into the chamber.

He froze when he suddenly remembered what she had said.

_He’s been here before. He’s not interested in girls, so he doesn’t count._

Wait, what?

_He’s not interested in girls_ .

The memory of Myrtle gave way, unbidden, to the memory of Nils, of his hands on him, his  _ lips _ on him, like a clear translation of what  _ not interested in girls _ could look like. Hal shivered, shaking his head to try and focus on something else –  the moonlight coming through the window, his pale reflection in the mirror, anything .  Look at the sink, at the cubicle doors, feel the cold, don’t think about being pressed again a tree on a hot summer day.

He didn’t want to think about Nils – or his sister. The whole thing still made him extremely uncomfortable, and while he’d not told anyone, he’d even had a nightmare about it. One, a few days after it had happened – it had started out as one of the nightmares with Lockhart attacking him, but then Lockhart in the dream at morphed into Nils, who instead of pointing a wand at his face, had advanced on him and started touching him. Hal had woken up before anything else had happened, but it had made him feel sick, and he’d thought about it several times over the rest of the summer, wondering what would have happened if the black dog hadn’t fortuitously rescued him, how far the older boy would have taken it.

It confused him, too, because as much as he knew he hadn’t been ready for anything with Nils, wouldn’t have been ready for anything with  Francezka, he hadn’t entirely hated it.  And he had thought about it, he had looked at other boys and… well, he couldn’t deny he was interested – to the small extent he was interested in exploring _ anything _ related to sex or relationships, which wasn’t a great deal.

Was Draco… like him?

No, Hal thought immediately. While he’d been looking at boys, he’d been looking at girls too, and his thoughts about them were the same. Just as he had felt over the summer faced with the twins, he couldn’t decide, and it seemed to extend not just to them two, but to their whole genders. If Myrtle had been right, if Hal even remembered that correctly and it wasn’t just the dream feeding him weird things, Draco wasn’t interested in girls at all.

He suddenly remembered as well how uncomfortable Draco had looked at the start of the year when Hermione had almost forcefully asked everyone to come out with their gender identity and orientation – Hal had been extremely relieved when Pan had clamped that down. Now, he was almost sure Draco had been equally relieved, for  a  very similar reason.

His friend was gay.

Hal’s instinct was to seek Draco out the next day, tell him it was okay, maybe tell him about what had happened to him over the summer and about his own interrogations. On the other hand, was it fair? If Draco wasn’t ready to talk about it, then Hal shouldn’t back him into a corner.  Hal knew, rationally, Draco should know he had nothing to fear given their group’s reaction to Pan, but he also knew it wasn’t as simple as that. Hell, _ he _ wasn’t sure how his friends would react knowing he was attracted to both girls and boys.

H e also realised that he’d jumped to one possible conclusion, but there was another. Maybe Draco was just as uninterested in boys as he was in girls. That was okay too, Hal tried to tell himself, though deep down the idea made him… sad. Somehow. He hated the thought that Draco might struggle to find someone. Maybe he hated the thought that Draco would never be interested in him – and where did  _ that _ come from?

Hal went to the sink to splash some water on his face. It was pointless thinking like that. Whether Draco was interested in boys, girls, both or neither, Hal wouldn’t know until he actually talked to him about it. Plus, they were thirteen. Things had time to change.

He went to back bed more confused than ever, and did not get much more sleep.

* *

*

Oliver was thoroughly unimpressed with Hal’s performance in Quidditch practice the next day –  Hal was tired from his bad night’s sleep, and it hadn’t helped his nerves to be able to see the Dementors in the distance when he soared up, positioned all around the boundaries of Hogwarts and Hogsmead – a nd actually ordered him to get more sleep. Ordered him.  Like Hal had done this on purpose, could have done anything about it.

“I don’t care how, Potter.” He snapped when Hal dared ask. “Go to Pomfrey and ask for a potion, if that’s what it takes. But you _will_ be in better shape at the next practice. Understood?”

Hal could only nod and try not too feel too wretched.  If it came to needing a potion to have a night without nightmares, it would make him feel entirely pathetic. He was just hoping the dreams would fade away, as they had before, albeit slowly, over the weeks. Fred and George came to  talk to  him in the changing rooms.

“Don’t worry too much about it, it’s not personal.” Fred said.

“He’s been a bitch to everyone, really.” George added.

“It’s his last year, so he wants to make it count.”

“Thanks, guys.” Hal offered them a tired smile. “He’s not entirely wrong, though. I was useless today.”

“Don’t let him get into your head, mate.” Fred patted him on the back. “You’re great. You’ll make it count during actual games, we all know it.”

Hal walked back to the castle feeling a little better, and strayed into the castle for some late breakfast – luckily, it was on a little later at weekends, and since Ollie had them up for practice at the crack of dawn, there were still some bits left.  He’d had porridge earlier, before practice, but he didn’t feel like he could wait for lunch after the physical effort, so he set out to help himself to a bagel and some apple juice.

He ate lost in thought, trying to think what his friends would be up to. He suspected Ron was still in bed, Neville in the greenhouse, Draco, Anthony and Hermione in the library (he’d probably join them next) and Pan and Blaise doing whatever Slytherins did on a Saturday morning (he’d heard some rumours about a group of students trying to revive some old demon-summoning rituals from Salem which he did  _not_ want to know more about).

He  jumped when someone spoke his name right behind him, having not heard them coming.

“Oh, hello Professor Lupin.” He greeted the man when he’d identified him.

“Hello, Harry.” Lupin smiled back. “Good practice?” He nodded at the Quidditch robes bundled up on the bench next to Hal.

Hal winced. “Not that great.” He admitted.

Lupin hummed, then gave Hal a nervous look. “I wanted to speak to you about something, actually.” He announced. “I saw you put your name up for wanting to have a go at the Boggart next class.”

“Yes.” Hal said firmly.

He decided he wasn’t going to accuse the teacher of stopping him before, but he wasn’t going to let him stop him this time again. Even if it turned into a Dementor, he wouldn’t faint this time – he’d face it. He had to prove to himself that he could face it.

However, Lupin surprised him by straight up admitting to it.

“I’m not sure that is a good idea.”

Hal gaped, and it wasn’t an accusation if Lupin was saying so himself, right?

“So you _did_ stop me.” He tried not to sound too hurt.

“I did.” The man did not deny it. Taking a breath, he explained himself further. “I did not think it would be a good idea to have Lord Voldemort appear in the classroom.”

“Oh.” Hal startled – both at the statement, and at the fact it was so rare to hear someone say the name, he’d started thinking of it as taboo himself.

“I assumed this would be the shape your Boggart took.” Lupin added.

“I guess that’s a fair assumption.” Hal nodded slowly. “But… I’m not sure it would be, sir.”

It was Lupin’s turn to look surprised. “No?”

“I thought about it.” Hal told him. “And… well, sure, Voldemort is scary, but in an abstract way, if you know what I mean? I _know_ he’s killed my parents and so many other people, but I don’t remember what he was really like, so all I can picture him as is a squashed face on the back of someone else’s head, or a petulant teenager. I… don’t have nightmares about him, or anything. So at first, I thought maybe the Basilisk. But then, I figured it would probably have turned into a Dementor.”

The look Lupin gave him was a little bit like he’d just opened a treasure chest full of gold – wonderment and disbelief.

“This is… very mature.” He told Hal. “Your greatest fear would in fact be, in a way, fear itself.”

“To be fair, it probably wouldn’t have been great to have that in the classroom either.” Hal gave him a tight smile.

“No.” Lupin admitted nervously. “Boggarts do retain some of the abilities of the form they adopt, so a Dementor would still have affected you, and everyone else. If you still would like to have a go…”

“It’s okay.” Hal interrupted. He could see the man’s point. “I was just worried you thought I couldn’t handle myself, after the train.” He admitted, looking down.

“Harry.” Lupin chuckled. “I think you are very capable of handling yourself. Doesn’t mean that you have to.” He added, putting a hand on Hal’s shoulder. “If there is anything you would like my support for, you won’t hesitate to come to me, I hope?”

Hal nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

Lupin looked like he was on the edge of saying something else, but in the end he just shook his head with a smile, bid Hal a good day and left him to finish his bagel.

* *

*

The first Hogsmead weekend  was on Halloween, and everyone in third year was beyond excitement – even Hal, whom Draco had kept a close eye on to check if the thrill of the prospect would outbalance his usual mixed mood on that day, which seemed to be the case.  In fact, Draco noticed that a lot of Muggleborns – or kids raised as such, like Hal – were looking forward to the visit a lot more vocally than the rest. 

It made sense; apart from shopping in Diagon Alley, they probably hadn’t had a chance to visit many magical places before. Draco had never been to Hogsmead itself, but he could imagine it based on trips with his mother to other towns and villages that were a hundred percent Wizard (Narcissa had opened up recently, but she was still a Pureblood, and she had standards regarding her leisure and shopping environment, and what she exposed her son to, at least when Draco was growing up).

F or a lot of them, it was also most likely the first time they would be in a magical place without their parents  or guardians ,  and  outside of the restrictive framework of the school. The freedom – which for a lot of thirteen year-olds, unsurprisingly, translated into wanting to try Butterbeer, consume a lot of sweets from Honeydukes and buy all sorts of stupid things from the joke shop –  was exhilarating.  A visit to the Shrieking Shack would also be popular today, it being Halloween, although the old battered cabin hadn’t shrieked in over a decade and really wasn’t all that scary at all anymore, from what they’d heard.

D raco also had plans to shop for a gift for his mother, as he’d promised himself. He had his eyes on the music shop, for a self-playing harp maybe, something soothing she would be able to put in the background when writing her letters to her friends – or Draco. He had kept his promise to write to her more often, and Ceridwen always seemed thrilled to have post to deliver. So much so, in fact, that Draco had let his friends use her for their own correspondence rather than the school owls. 

They all had breakfast together that morning, which somehow still caused somewhat of a stir when people realised the mix of red, blue and green – and yellow too, sometimes, as Neville had bonded with Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff over  venomous plants, of all things , and she sat with them sometimes when they were too engrossed in their conversation about one  specimen  or another. They kept insisting they were just friends, and no amount of teasing so far had gotten Neville to admit if he felt anything romantic for her.  Either way, she was alright,  if a little worryingly enthusiastic about flora that could kill you .

“You get to go, right?” Anthony asked Pan – they could talk about little else than the imminent trek to Hogsmead.

Pan nodded with a roll  of his eyes .  “ I had my father sign  the form  _before_ coming out  to him , I’m not that stupid.”

“You did come out a whole three weeks before the end of the holiday and almost ended up homeless.” Blaise pointed out. “So it wasn’t altogether carefully planned either, was it.”

“Shut up, Zabini.” Pan retorted without heat.

On the way there, they agreed it would be tricky to stick together in a group of eight, especially as they wanted to explore some different parts of the village. Draco, Hal and Ron were headed to the sports shop first, wanting to look at Quidditch supplies – Draco had made the actual team for the year! – while Pan and Hermione  were going  to the clothes shop; menswear for Pan, and Hermione was apparently in desperate needs for tights, something ‘the rest of them couldn’t understand’,  though Pan did give her a commiserating nod . Blaise ditched them halfway t here  to jog up to Nott, Crabbe and Goyle whom he knew were going straight to the pub.  Neville was going to the Herbology shop, and Draco was starting to think they’d need to talk to him soon about expanding his interests, maybe just a bit. Though last time they – Ron – had tried that, he’d threw back in his face how obsessed he was about Quidditch, which was actually fair.

T hey’d agreed to meet an hour later and head to Zonko’s – which Draco intended to skip on in favour of the music shop for his mother – then Honeydukes, then the Three Broomstick.  Then back to Hogwarts for the Halloween feast, which they were looking forward to at least half as much as the day out.

After  _Spintwitches Sporting Needs_ , Hal surprised Draco by announcing he was coming with him, rather than follow Ron to Zonko’s to meet the others.

“Not interested in jokes and pranks?” Draco queried, finding that a little surprising.

“You know me.” Hal laughed. “Probably a bit too much. I’ve been very tame here, believe me. The shit we used to get up to with Ley…” He shook his head with a smile. “I’ll go next time, get him stuff for Christmas. Unless you wanted to be left alone?” He suddenly stopped in his stepped, looking worried.

“No, don’t be daft.” Draco hurried to refute.

Hal grinned, and they chatted happily about Quidditch and classes – Hal had told him about his conversation with Lupin, and Draco had made something up about  how  his Boggart  would probably have turned into his dead mother, taking inspiration from Anthony, justifying why he did not want to see it. It was a better idea than bees, too; he’d use that in his homework. It was all comfortable, until some older kids running past them called out for each other, and Hal startled badly at the name  _Nils_ . 

At first Draco thought it was because the bloke had shouted it pretty much in Hal’s ear, but from the way Hal looked nervously around, and sagged in relief when he spotted the Nils in question (a lanky brown-haired fifth-year guffawing as he threw enchanted sticky bats at his friends), it was clear the name itself had made him react.

“You alright?” Draco asked him with a frown.

“Yeah.” Hal said quickly, his voice a little airy. “Oh, we’re here.”

He pushed into the shop ahead of Draco, and kept up a constant chatter, pointing at the various items, the whole time it took for Draco to make his choice – a delicate ebony flute that could play itself if you used a specific spell. It had ten recorded tunes and then you could teach it more, which he thought his mother would enjoy too.

He didn’t let Hal get away with his odd behaviour, however, and grabbed his elbow once they were back out of the shop.

“What was that, then?” He demanded. As Hal started saying _Nothing_ , he gave him the patented Malfoy look to let him know he would not take his shit.

Hal sighed. “It startled me, that’s all.” He said. “I met someone called Nils this summer and I had that second of, you know – can’t possibly be him.”

It seemed plausible enough, Hal wasn’t a bad liar when he really wanted to fob someone off, though he didn’t do it often, mostly just when he felt embarrassed or wanted to talk his way out of something. But Draco knew him well, and he wasn’t buying it, so he pushed.

“You looked scared.” He argued.

It was a bit of an exaggeration – Hal had looked briefly spooked, but not quite scared. More like he’d  been hit by a S hock ing jinx , both stimulated and, well, shocked. 

“I wasn’t scared.” Hal scoffed, defensive. “I just- It’s not someone I want to see, alright?”

“Why?” Draco suddenly had a vision of Flint and his mates, and gasped at the idea that Hal could have been in the same situation – though he was sure Hal would have handled it better, he’d actually shown that. He still had to ask. “Did he… bully you?”

“Not exactly.” Hal grimaced, looking extremely uncomfortable. “Do we have to talk about this?”

“I just want to help.” Draco offered – better than admitting he was dead curious now. “If I can.”

Hal gave him a considering look for a moment, and sighed.

“You won’t tell anyone else?” He looked more uncertain than Draco had seen him in a long time.

“I swear.” He promised.

“It was stupid, really.” Hal told him, still hesitant. “He and his twin sister, they… I guess they like playing games. It was like they challenged each other, and they, just, they kissed me, alright?”

Draco blinked, allowing his mouth to hang open for as long as Hal was looking at his shoes. He closed it when Hal looked up, a worried frown creasing his brow.

“Both of them?” Draco finally managed to ask.

“Both of them.” Hal confirmed. “They made it into a game, I don’t know. It’s no big deal, I just… It was weird.”

“Yeah.” Draco breathed. “I can imagine.”

And Merlin, could he imagine. He had a hard time  _not_ imagining, not picturing Hal kissing that boy and that girl, not feeling nauseous about it. He burned to ask Hal if he’d liked the kiss es ,  _which one_ of the kisses he’d liked, but that seemed like a monumentally bad idea for several reasons, so he bit his tongue. Instead, a rather more pressing and worrying questions came to mind.

“Did you agree to them doing that?” He wondered.

Hal shrugged. “I let them.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Draco frowned.

“I’m fine.” Hal insisted.

It still wasn’t really an answer, but Draco didn’t press the matter. It didn’t sound like it had been assault, or at least Hal deemed it harmless enough that he didn’t want to see it that way.  Draco had precise ideas about consent, his mother had given him the (very embarrassing) talk before he’d come to Hogwarts, should he wish to start ‘courting’ a Pureblood girl in his house (not that she was aware that was an irrelevant perspective for Draco) and she had made a clear point that even kissing required some form of permission. But sometimes it wasn’t verbal, and that was where things got tricky, and where Draco had firmly decided, back then, that he’d cross that bridge later. Much later.

“Do you…” Hal started, but he interrupted himself. “Never mind.”

Draco wasn’t sure if he wanted to ask what,  because he did want to support Hal, but any further discussion on the matter would probably lead to close to personal questions he did not want to answer right now. He  was saved from having to make a decision as they reached the joke shop, out of which their friends were pouring.  He put on a brave face, but the rest of the afternoon was soured.  _Hal kissed a boy_ , he couldn’t help playing in a loop in his head. 

_And it wasn’t me_ .

* *

*

Hal had a headache. Hermione would probably tell him it was from eating too much sugar, and it sure might not have helped, but really it was a combination of their busy day running around Hogsmead, the conversation he’d had with Draco – who had had an odd look on his face since, and Hal wanted to take it back, or tell him to stop already, or to come out with what he had to say about it, if it was bothering him – and the noisy Great Hall. Plus, well, Halloween. It always made him feel a little off, nothing had changed about that.

As amazing as the feast was, Hal decided he’d had enough food for the day (probably for the rest of the week if he was honest) and he’d rather call it a night early.

“I’ll ring my aunt and Ley.” He told Neville when he kindly offered to go with him, though Hal knew he was looking forward to desert, which hadn’t arrived yet, the way he’d restrained himself in Honeydukes earlier. “Thanks, though. I’ll see you guys later.”

They all waved him off, including Anthony and Draco after Hal made a  quick stop at the Ravenclaw table so they didn’t worry – Anthony probably wouldn’t, but Draco might, Hal would have reacted the same if their positions had been revers ed and Draco had left in the middle of a meal. That still hadn’t quite left them since the Chamber.  Hal made his way up to the Gryffindor dormitories, already relishing in the silence and emptiness of the halls, looking forward to just having a lie down. He did plan on calling his family, but maybe a bit later.

Hal thought everyone else would still be at the feast, but when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, there was someone standing there. He’d probably just gotten there, seeing as she was sleeping, a three-quarter eaten box of pumpkin-shaped chocolates on her lap – Hal wondered why portraits went through the motions like that. Surely they couldn’t really eat anything, nor did they have any need to sleep.

Hal had thought it was a seventh year, given his height, but it was a grown man who whirled around when he heard Hal’s footsteps, and after the first moment of startled surprise at his scraggly appearance, he recognised him. Sirius Black – the same haunted eyes, dark circles under them, stringy hair, unkept beard, torn clothes that Hal had seen in the paper.

For a second, the man seemed just as shocked as Hal was, but the next, Hal’s sharp intake of breath stuck in his throat as a spell hit him.

“Silencio.” Black had cast – wandlessly, apparently, as Hal couldn’t spot one. “Don’t run!” Black added immediately, hands raised.

Hal wasn’t sure he could have if he’d tried. He was frozen in place, staring eyes wide at the man in front of him, the man who had betrayed his parents and gotten them killed, the man who was allegedly out to murder him too.  _I’m going to die_ , he thought briefly. But Black was drinking him in, looking completely overwhelmed at the sight of him, and Hal somehow didn’t really think he was.

“Harry.” Black whispered, his voice hoarse and breaking on the name. “Oh Merlin, Harry. I’m. We probably don’t have much time to talk. I’m not here to harm you. Please.”

He sounded sincere, as much as a man who looked half mad could, and Hal found himself nodding and gesturing to his throat. With a spark of understanding, and only a moment’s hesitation, Black waved his hand and Hal felt the charm lift. He gasped, but he didn’t scream. He didn’t want to find out how Black would react if he did, and now that he was past the first terrifying shock, while a small part of him  did  want to run, a larger part wanted to hear what the man had to say for himself.

“Okay.” He spoke quietly after a few moments of Black looking at him like you would an unstable potion. “Why are you here?”

“Peter Pettigrew.” Black said. As Hal raised a brow, because, was it supposed to mean anything to him?, he expanded. “He- I thought he was dead, but I recognised him in the paper. He’s a rat.” He shook his head, probably realising he wasn’t making much sense. “He’s an Animagus, he changes into a rat. I saw him with the Weasley boy on that picture of their family trip to Egypt.”

Hal startled. “Scabbers?” He surmised, gobsmacked. “You’re saying Ron’s rat is someone called Peter Pettigrew?”

“Yes.” Black asserted. “He-”

“He sleeps in his bed!” Hal cried out, not processing anything else right now.

If that was true, it was disturbing and he didn’t want to be the one who’d have to break the new s to Ron. Black wince d , clearly thinking something along the same lines.

“Who is he?” Hal demanded, not that it would have made a difference to the fact that, apparently, a man posing as rat had been sleeping inconspicuously next to his friend for _years_.

“He is… was, a friend of ours at school. Me and your dad’s.”

“Yeah.” Hal sneered unhappily. “I was told how you were _friends_ with my parents.”

“Harry.” A tone of despair was back in the man’s voice. “I know what you must have heard. And I’m not going to disrespect James and Lily by saying none of it was my fault. I convinced them to make Peter their Secret Keeper instead of me.”

Hal couldn’t say anything, his throat tight, and Black took that as a need to carry on explaining himself.

“You have to believe me.” He pleaded. “It was the biggest mistake of my life, Peter was a traitor, I never suspected…” He choked on what almost sounded like a sob. “After he told You-Know-Who and… I went there, I saw… I should have stayed, I am so sorry, Harry, I should have stayed to look after you, you were just a baby and you were crying and I just _left you_ , I was in so much pain, and I chose to turn it into anger and go after Peter.”

When he stopped for a breath, Hal took the chance to comment.

“That backfired.”

He hadn’t intended to sound sarcastic, but it somehow came out just that level of dryness, and Black barked something like a joyless laugh.

“That’s a way of putting it.” He said dejectedly. “Peter made a whole scene when I caught up with him, then he cast that spell, cut his own finger, turned into a rat and scampered. Twelve people were dead, and I… the fight left me. All evidence pointed to me, and I let them take me. I felt like nothing mattered anymore.” He looked up, his eyes definitely wet. “But you mattered. And I’m sorry, I’m _so sorry_ I didn’t remember that at the time, if I-”

“Stop.” Hal begged. “Just, stop. I’m sorry that you went to prison.”

He was, too. A number of alarm bells were still ringing, telling him not to be naive, to not trust a word out of the man’s mouth, but they were growing faint. Black was either telling the truth, or he was an excellent actor, and Hal thought the former more likely the more he listened to him. His aunt had once told him he was intuitive – maybe it was true. He felt like he would know if the man was lying to his face. He also felt he would already be dead if that really was what Black’s intent was.

“But if you’d stayed.” Hal carried on. “I wouldn’t have my aunt and my cousin, and I can’t accept your apology for something that would have deprived me of them.”

Black looked both surprised and hopeful at that.

“So they… they treat you well? I saw you with them, I thought you looked alright, but I wasn’t sure…”

Hal frowned, and interrupted him again. “What do you mean, you saw me with them?”

“Oh.” Black looked down again sheepishly. “I, well, I wanted to find Peter and expose him, that is primarily why I escaped, but I had to check on you.”

“You stalked me?” Hal raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

“I checked on you.” Black moderated. “And I feel like I was right to as well, when that boy was ready to do Merlin knows what to you.”

Hal paled. He didn’t have to ask what the man was referring to. “You were there?”

Black nodded, and after what looked like a moment’s hesitation, he suddenly shifted into a big black dog. The same big black dog who had gone in the way of Nils’ advances,  whom Ley and Hal had played with  in the park  and  who  had given Hal the beech bark on his  birthday.

“Oh, God.” Hal breathed, beyond surprised and well into the realm of _mortified_. It weirdly made so much sense.

T hey heard footsteps then, no doubt a few students who had already had enough of the spread of puddings and treats that must be in full swing now, and Black hopped to the side,  out of sight, padding off into the shadows. Hal followed him up the corridor – how could he not – until they reached an empty classroom, where the dog turned back into a man.

“He left you alone after that, right?” He picked up their conversation.

“Yes, I’m fine.” Hal repeated for the second time that day, thoroughly sick of reliving something he hadn’t wanted to even think about. “So, you and Peter are both Animagi.”

“Your dad was one too.” Sirius smiled, proudly.

Hal realised, he’d started thinking of him as Sirius. He believed him. He still thought he looked mad and not half dangerous, but he knew he wasn’t going to hurt him  if he hadn’t done so already , and he believed his pain.  Sirius Black had loved his father – he hadn’t betrayed him. He may have caused his death, but he had paid dearly for that already, and Hal did not think it was his prerogative to hold a grudge. 

“A stag.” Sirius added.

“Wait.” Hal suddenly remembered what he’d found out in his first year, from his aunt accepting to go through Lily’s old letters to see if she mentioned any friends. His dad’s friends, who were Peter, Remus and Sirius. “Wait, wait.” He repeated, his eyes widening. “You had a friend Remus, right? Is it – it’s not Remus as in Remus Lupin, is it?”

The way Sirius stilled, Hal knew it was.  Hal felt cheated and understanding all at once, the sense of betrayal (coming from wondering why Lupin hadn’t told him, hadn’t taken the opportunity to talk to him about his parents if he’d not only known them, but been their friend) quickly tampered by the realisation that talking about his dad  unavoidably  would have led to talking about Sirius, and with him being an alleged mass murdered on the run, Hal could see why Lupin had not brought it up.

“Look.” Sirius had an aborted movement, like he had been about to put a hand on Hal’s shoulder, then thought better of it. “There is so much I’d want to tell you, but right now, we need to get Peter.”

Hal shook his head. “You can’t go in – the Common Room will be full  by  now.”  He thought for a second. “Is there a spell that can force an Animagus to reveal themselves?”

“Yes.” Sirius confirmed. “But-”

“I’ll go to McGonagall in the morning.” Hal decided. “Scabbers… Peter… has not made a move in twelve years, he’s not going to make one in the next twelve hours. I’ll tell her you contacted me, that you sent me a letter telling me all this, and I’ll ask her help to catch him. Then we can see about clearing your name. In the meantime, you need to hide.”

Sirius gave him a look of disbelief, then barked another laugh – closer to actual mirth this time.

“Merlin, I thought you’d be just like James, you look so much like him.” He said. “But that just- that was a hundred percent Lily.”

“Was she usually right?” Hal asked.

Sirius smiled.

“She was always right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLOT TWIST! Hope you enjoyed it. I hadn’t actually planned for this scene when I started writing, but I was boring myself with this chapter and it suddenly came to me. And so at the time of writing this I have no idea where things will go from here haha exciting isn’t it!


	6. November

Hal almost asked Ron to come with him to McGonagall, but he did not want to raise any suspicion in the rat – or man posing as rat, God, if that was true, it was just too weird to think about, especially looking at the creature curled up next to Ron’s read on his pillow – and dragging Ron out of bed before 8 am on a Sunday morning would definitely be a suspicious thing to do.

Sirius had left the night before with a wink and a comment about how he ‘had his ways’ when Hal had asked him how he’d even gotten into the castle – because being able to turn into a dog could explain how he’d made it past the Dementors, both out of Azkaban and outside the castle, but now how he was able to slip inside completely unnoticed, especially on a Saturday. He was a rather large dog. They had agreed he would come back that evening and reveal himself to McGonagall and probably Dumbledore – they had no doubt she would want to involve the Headmaster. He was counting on the fact Hal would go through with the plan to secure Pettigrew before that happened.

“If you don’t, I’m dead.” Sirius had told him plainly.

It wasn’t quite true,  because if something went wrong for some reason, all Sirius had to do was stay a dog, and not show himself to anyone else but Hal. Still, t he fact that he was trusting him with that, taking that chance, finished convincing Hal that his story was true, and not an elaborate ploy serving a  final purpose  to... Hal wasn’t even sure what, except lead him to his death, which didn’t exactly need to be convoluted.  And Sirius looked way too exhausted for any evil scheme. And way too hopeful when Hal had laid out his plans. Really, he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions – unless, once again, his acting skills were outstanding.

H al allowed himself to go for some breakfast before he bothered his Head of House, even if it was just grabbing a glass of juice he drank there and then standing at the table, and a couple squares of flapjack he ate on the way to her office. She was always up early, he had no doubt he’d find her there.  And indeed, she answered with a  _Come in_ as soon as he knocked on the door.

“Mister Potter.” She seemed surprised to see him, but smiled as he pushed the door open. “What can I do for you?”

“Good morning, Professor.” Hal greeted her. “I had something to tell you, if you’re not too busy? It’s quite serious.”

He only realised the unintentional pun as it left his mouth, and bit his lip to stop himself from laughing and discrediting the whole thing.

“Of course.” She ushered him in and closed the door behind him, had him take a seat and took her place in front of him with a very practised _I am listening carefully_ face.

“I received a letter from Sirius Black.” Hal said – lied – without preamble.

McGonagall’s mouth opened in shock, but Hal ploughed on before she could comment.

“He wanted to explain himself. He says he’s innocent, and he was never my parent’s Secret Keeper.”

This, he thought, would at least made it plausible that he had indeed spoken to Sirius. He would have been unlikely to know the term otherwise. Draco hadn’t used it when he’d told him about his godfather in the first place, Hal wasn’t sure he knew it.

“He says Peter Pettigrew was it.” Hal carried on. “That he convinced them it would be less expected and safer that way. But Peter was a traitor.” He took a breath to lay out the final brick. “And he says he escaped Azkaban when he saw Pettigrew in the paper, on that photo of the Weasleys in Egypt. He’s rat Animagus. He’s Ron’s rat.”

McGonagall’s remained speechless for a few moments, blinking helplessly, before she gathered herself.

“Peter Pettigrew is alive, he’s an Animagus and he’s been hiding as a rat this whole time?” She summarised.

“Yes, professor.” Hal nodded with as much conviction as he could. “That is what the letter said.”

“May I see that letter?” She asked.

“I… burned it.” Hal improvised, feeling a bit daft for not having thought she’d want to look at it.

“It could have been cursed, it could…”

“It wasn’t.” Hal interrupted. “It didn’t harm me. And I didn’t know it was from him before I opened it.” He added, surprising himself how genuinely defensive he felt and sounded, even as he made the whole thing up. “I would have been more careful otherwise, obviously. But I guess it was fine.”

McGonagall nodded absently, looking like several thoughts and emotions were running fast through her mind – which Hal had no doubt they were.

“Do you believe him?” She asked eventually.

“Rather than thinking my father’s best friend, my own godfather, betrayed my parents and got them killed? I want to.” Hal admitted.

It was entirely true, though he didn’t think that had made him blind during his conversation with Sirius.  But he did want to believe him. Desperately. The fact  _another_ friend of his dad’s had betrayed them wasn’t a nice option either, but if it had to be  _a_ friend, Hal preferred it to be the one who wasn’t his godfather.

“I suppose there is an easy way to check if his allegations regarding the rat are correct.” McGonagall said.

She had moved past her shock and sounded fully determined now, and Hal couldn’t help but admire the woman. She did take things in stride. He supposed she’d had to, being a teacher for so many years. There probably weren’t many things left that fazed her. 

A s Hal had suspected, she wanted to shared this with the Headmaster right away, and they headed to his office. Hal waited at the door while she, presumably, repeated his story back to the old man. It only took a few minutes before they emerged again, both with a look of resolute concern on their faces, though Dumbledore took a moment to smile at Hal.

By the time they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room, most students were off to breakfast, and a peek inside their room confirmed to Hal that it was empty. Of humans, at least, Animagi notwithstanding; he could see Scabbers nested in the blankets on Ron's unmade bed, Trevor looking placid in his glass tank on Neville’s bedside table, Dean's owl perched by the window, and Little John Silver who trotted up to him. Hal picked him up into his arms as he turned back to nod at the two adults.

McGonagall started by casting a series of spells at the dormitory's door – she did not explain them, but Hal could guess they were meant to ensure nobody could escape, be it a rat or a man. She and Dumbledore then both made their way into the room, which did not go unnoticed. Whether he hadn't actually been sleeping or was stirred by the sound of their steps, the rat squealed and skipped off the bed, immediately scuttling towards the door. He didn't make it, as McGonagall's next spell his him square in the bottom.

In the next moment, there was no longer a rat, but a ratty-looking man crouching there. Hal and McGonagall both gasped, while Dumbledore didn't miss a beat and cast a body-bind on him. He looked furious, Hal noticed.

“Peter Pettigrew.” He stated, his voice a storm.

“P-professor…” The man squeaked. He then turned to Hal, as if he thought he’d be the better ally. “Harry. You-”

“Don’t even speak to him.” McGonagall spat.

“Care to explain?” Dumbledore added coldly.

“I was so scared.” The wretched-looking man whimpered. “So scared… I had to protect myself. Sirius, he-”

“Right now, it’s his word against yours.” Hal spoke up. “And his isn’t looking too bad right now, considering he did not spend twelve years pretending to be a _rat_ to such an extent it included sleeping with a child.”

“I never-” Peter stammered. “The Weasley boys have been good to me, I have been a good pet in return, I-”

“Enough.” McGonagall hissed again. Had she been in her cat form, Hal though she’d probably have hissed and bared her teeth. “We will get nowhere this way.”

“My office.” Dumbledore decided. “Students might be coming back here soon.”

He whistled suddenly, two sharp notes, and  then there was a ball of fire – Hal jumped about a foot in the air – and Fawkes appeared.

“I’ll take us directly.” Dumbledore said as the bird perched on his shoulder. “Minerva, if you and Mister Potter would join us there? Oh, and send for a dose of Veritaserum from Severus.”

She barely had time to nod before the Headmaster walked to Pettigrew to take his arm, and they were gone in another burst of flames.

“I didn’t know a phoenix could do that.” Hal commented, feeling a little spooked.

“They only would for their owner.” McGonagall took the time to tell him, kindly. “They are very hard to domesticate, and even harder to control. Now, come along. Leave your cat, Mister Potter.” She added with an eye-roll when he started taking him along.

The next hour or so was thoroughly exhausting, in Hal’s opinion.  Under the Veritaserum,  Pettigrew  confessed to everything he’d done just the way Sirius had told Hal.  Ron was called up and his parents summoned as it was deemed they all had a right to know straight away. Snape, as the one who had provided the potion and demanding to know what it was used for, had been hovering and while he only looked pale when hearing about Pettigrew, he started kicking off when it appeared Sirius was coming into the school. McGonagall went to fetch Lupin as well, vaguely explaining that the four boys – himself and Sirius, Peter and James – had been such close friends in school, he should hear about this. Snape sneered and kicked off some more at that. On her way there, she was stopped by the rest of Hal’s friends, who were looking for him and Ron, and wouldn’t leave her alone until she agreed to let them come to support them. 

At the end of all this, Dumbledore’s office was rather crowded, with Pettigrew bound in a chair on one side, Sirius and Lupin alternating between glaring at him and hugging each other emotionally, Snape glaring at  _them_ and arguing that surely that did not mean Black would walk free just like that, because escaping prison was still a felony, McGonagall trying to argue that he had been falsely imprisoned in the first place, Dumbledore on a fire-call with the Ministry, Mr and Mrs Weasley bracketing Ron like he was about to fall to pieces, Ron visibly in shock and unable to take his eyes off Pettigrew, Hermione and Neville babbling words of support to him, Anthony actually looking more intrigued by the content of Dumbledore’s office than by the situation (which admittedly was at a bit of a standstill  after a while ), and Draco by Hal’s side, having taken his hand and seemingly unwilling to let go just yet, casting slightly suspicious glances towards Sirius.

In the end, Dumbledore would be taking Pettigrew to the Ministry where the Aurors would make an official arrest. Sirius had to surrender himself to them as well, awaiting a proper examination of the testimonies and evidence so his name could be clear, and he went with obvious reluctance but also Dumbledore’s assurance that he would not let anything happen to him. Lupin wanted to come with them, but the Headmaster kindly reminded him of his teaching duties. That seemed to echo with McGonagall, who started shepherding the students back out to their common rooms.

“There will most likely be a trial.” She told them when she was satisfied she could leave them – at the door of the Gryffindor common room, though Anthony and Draco had tagged along. “I suspect you and Mr Weasley will be asked to testify.” She added for Hal’s benefit.

Ron was still with his parents, Snape had volunteer ed to find them Percy (he thought he’d most likely find him in the  Great Hall with the Head Girl, planning their duties for the week, as he’d noticed them doing often on a Sunday) and send him up. As Scabbers’ previous owner,  Percy ought to be informed too, and Pomfrey had been sent for to ask both boys some rather sensitive questions, aimed to clear up if Pettigrew had, in any way, caused harm to their psyche – though he had assured still under the influence of the truth serum that he had never touched them – and at least provide support for the potential trauma the revelation itself would ca u se.

“Another trial.” Draco commented unhappily.

Hal sighed. “Yeah. But at least, I suppose I can gain a family member out of this one.”

“I should write to my mother.” Draco said thoughtfully.

“Of, of course.” Hal realised. “He’s her cousin as well.”

“There you are.” A voice rang behind them – Blaise, sounding petulant, clearly annoyed at having done something so beneath him as to look for them. Pan was following behind him, looking bored – an expression that hadn’t changed one bit even though his features had started to, under the effects of the potion treatment he’d undertaken with Snape. “I thought we were playing three-a-side today?”

They had, indeed, earlier in the week, planned for a friendly game of Quidditch that weekend – minus Hermione and Neville who had politely but firmly refused to get on a broom, ever, unless it was a matter of life or death.

Blaise, to his credit, immediately noticed the looks on their faces and dropped the attitude.

“Something happen?” He asked.

“You could say that.”

* *

*

The news about Black and Pettigrew had spread through the school like wildfire. Blaise swore he hadn’t told anyone much too vehemently to leave any doubt that he was the source of the ‘leak’, but they didn’t hold it against him – it’d be in the papers soon enough anyway. Draco had written to his mother immediately, thinking it’d be nice for her to hear it from him first rather than from the _Prophet_ , and he’d even taken it upon himself to write to his Aunt Andromeda.

Hal had  called his family, as well, though he’d had to explain the whole situation from scratch to his aunt first, as only Ley was already even aware of the existence of Sirius Black. Draco didn’t think he mentioned the Animagi, he simplified it to ‘Pettrigrew was in hiding, he’s been found out’.  Draco supposed Hal’s aunt would find it a  bit creepy that Black had been keeping tabs on Hal in dog form. Draco had been a little put out himself when he’d found out.

“He was just making sure I was okay.” Hal justified like it was no big deal.

“It was deceiving.” Draco argued. “And it’s only okay because it turns out he’s the good guy, isn’t it? If he really had been after you, he could have approached you and harmed you ridiculously easily, you realise that?”

“Well.” Hal said drily. “We’ll just hope there are no unregistered Animagi on the Dark side, won’t we.”

“Other than Peter.” Neville piped up.

Hal gave him a look.

“Peter, yes.” He said sarcastically. “Considering he’d been sharing a dorm room with me for over two years, he’s clearly not that interested in murdering me in my sleep.”

“And he’s in custody.” Draco added. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re not protected.”

“I am, actually.” Hal snapped back. “Stupidly, overly protected. They posted bloody _Dementors_ around the school when they thought he was after me.”

Draco could tell he was getting annoyed, so he dropped it, but he wasn’t feeling comfortable about any of it.  The part about the Dementors was true, but it wasn’t the point. The point was that all the precautions the school and the Ministry had taken had been completely ineffective in preventing Black from approaching Hal. Though maybe, now, security measures would be reviewed to ward against Animagi, next time something like that happened.

The fact that Black would be in Hal’s life, after his trial had cleared him and he could live on as a normal citizen again – which Draco had no doubt would happen, if Dumbledore was offering his support in the matter – did not sit well with him. He might have never been a traitor, and he might be keen to reconnect with his godson, but he still had spent  twelve years in Azkaban. That would make any man a little unhinged, and rather unstable to be around a teenager with cravings for family and a father figure, in Draco’s opinion. He just didn’t want Hal to get hurt, in any which way.  And the raw hope Draco could see in his eyes whenever they spoke about  _Sirius_ , well, that didn’t bode well. He wasn’t protecting himself against potential disappointment in the slightest.

“We have to trust him to make his own mistakes.” Hermione told him supportively, visibly sharing his opinion though they both kept quiet about it.

It did not reassure Draco.

“Oh, so you think it’s a mistake?”

“No!” Hermione whispered back. “I mean, not necessarily. I think he should be careful, but I don’t think we can really tell him that, that’s all. This is one he has to navigate by himself, figure out what to think of himself and how _he_ feels about it. There will be enough people trying to tell him how to react.”

Draco sighed. She was right (what else was new), he had seen himself how Hal had gotten irritable when Draco had try to make a point about how Black not being harmful didn’t mean he harmless. He still didn’t like it.

“It could be a good thing.” Hermione tried to sound optimistic.

Draco didn’t have to voice what they were both thinking, he could see it on her face.  _Or it could be a disaster_ .

“Will you two stop whispering like conspirators?” Anthony called them out, throwing a balled up piece of parchment at them – it missed Draco as he dodged and hit Hermione in the shoulder.

“Yeah.” Hal sighed, throwing a look their way. “That is not quite what I meant when I said I’d rather stop talking about it for a minute.”

“Sorry.” Hermione made an effort to look contrite. 

“I’ve got to go to Quidditch practice.” Hal started gathering his things.

“It’s not for another hour.” Draco started, but Anthony put a hand on his wrist and shook his head.

“Hermione is right.” He said when Hal had left the library. “Yeah, I heard everything you said.” He added with a look at their worried looks. “I don’t think Hal did. But, yeah, he’s got to figure that one out on his own. Give him some space.”

* *

*

Hal did not go straight to practice, Draco was right, he had loads of time, even if he had to go back to Gryffindor’s to pick up his kit and broom.  He just wanted a break from all their worried looks – the only one of his friends doing it was Ron, only because he was earning his own worried looks. Hal thought he was actually taking it quite well, all things considered, he wasn’t too concerned about  him .

“Honestly, for a would-be Death Eater, he’s really a rubbish one.” Ron had confessed to him, his face twisted like he almost wanted to laugh about it, but it was a bit too soon to move past the discomfort yet.

Hal agreed. Pettigrew was a coward, but he wasn’t an evil mastermind, far from it. Hal didn’t  think he’ d ever done anything bad in his life other than being too weak to resist joining  Voldemort and selling out  his parents.  Settling in with a nice family after that and living his life as a happy pet rat didn’t scream  _Your worst nightmare_ .

“It’s weird and gross, don’t get me wrong.” Ron had added. “But nothing ever happened, you know? He was just a rat. I don’t see the need to start freaking out about it.”

As it turned out, not many people shared Ron’s opinion, which Hal could tell was getting on his nerves a bit as well. Even Fred and George had been unusually quiet – “I’d rather they were taking the piss, as usual”, Ron had admitted to Hal.

Fred and George, in fact, found Hal enjoying the silent emptiness of the Trophy Room, the first place he’d found to be away from people. They still had a subdued look about them, which, Hal had to agree with Ron, did not suit them.

“Harry, can we talk to you?” Fred called out as they approached him without prior greetings.

They’d clearly been looking for him, so Hal didn’t try to escape – his excuse about Quidditch wouldn’t work anyway, they had the same practice schedule.

“We wanted to give you something.” George added.

He waved a folded  piece of  parchment, which, as they reached him, Hal could see was blank.  He cast the twins a dubious look, which  actually brought a  smile back to their faces.

“Hold on.” George took out his wand and tapped it to the parchment. “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

Hal immediately understood it was a key phrase to unlock what appeared to be a map, as the parchment filled with lines. Hal unfolded it, his mouth opening in speechless wonder. It was a map, a map of all of Hogwarts, complete with its occupants. The blueprint of the rooms and corridors was riddled with labels bearing names. The magical map zoomed in on _Trophy Room_ , presumably as a sort of ‘You are here’ function, and Hal could see three little scrolls bearing the names  _Fred_ _Weasley_ ,  _George Weasley_ and  _Harry Potter_ .

“Wow.” He couldn’t help but breathe out.

“I know, right?” Both twins said together, fully grinning now. 

“We found this in our first year, in the confiscated items in Filch’s office.” Fred added. “It has been instrumental to our success.”

“This is amazing.” Hal admired. “Where does it come from?”

“They call themselves the Marauders.” Fred informed. “Clearly illustrious pranksters of times past.”

“Joke aside.” George went on. “This is absolutely brilliant magic. The blokes who made this were seriously talented.”

“We want you to have it.” Fred announced.

“What?” Hal blinked up at them.

“We know all the secret passageways by heart.” George said.

“Secret passageways?” Hal repeated.

“Oh yes.” His eyes twinkled. “You’re in for a treat.”

“More seriously, we think you might make better use of it than us, now.” Fred sobered them both up. “You…”

They exchanged a look, and George took over again.

“Things like Quirrell, the Chamber of Secrets? We don’t think they’ll stop happening to you.”

“Call it a hunch or something.” Fred smiled more gravely than Hal had ever seen him look. “But we think you’re meant for great things. It’s not a _Harry Potter_ thing. It’s having watched you these past two years. You’re a force to be reckoned with, Hal.”

T hey didn’t use his nickname consistently, being less close to him than Ron was, and Hal appreciated they had consciously done it now to put weight behind their words.

“Also…” George hesitated. “We think you probably wouldn’t have failed Ron the way we did on this one.”

Hal frowned, and Fred tapped the map with a finger and explained. “We saw him on the map, Peter Pettigrew, ages ago. But we thought it was a glitch.”

“This is very advanced magic and it was made by teenagers.” George carried on. “We accepted that there might be a few errors.”

“We should not have doubted our masters.” Fred said emphatically, slapping a hand to his chest.

“Anyway, we thought this Peter was a kid who used to be in Hogwarts, we always saw him in your dorm, we thought his magical signature had gotten stuck on the map or something.”

“Magical signature?” Hal repeated, again looking for clarification.

“Yeah.” George nodded with a little frown, like he hadn’t thought he’d have to explain that. “Every person has one – that’s how they keep tabs on underage magic.”

“Or in the case of Hogwarts, it’s how the House-elves know where to bring your stuff, or how points get knocked off.” Fred added. “It’s like a fingerprint of your magic, of which the school holds the database.”

“And we think that’s how the map works.” George said, unable to stop a note of admiration from seeping back into his voice. “They tapped into the Hogwarts system for magical signatures, and came up with enchantments so this would track them.”

“Anyway.” Fred waved a hand. “We didn’t realise Pettigrew was an actual person who was really there the whole time. And we think you would have known better.”

“Oh.” Hal reacted, embarrassed. “I’m not sure about that, I mean…”

“If anything, you would have been able to better track that his movements coincided with Scabbers’, being in the same room.” Fred insisted.

“Maybe.” Hal conceded.

“At any rate.” George was back to grinning. “It’s yours now, young Padawan.”

Hal actually gawked. “Wait, what?”

“It is a Muggle reference.” Fred said proudly.

“How do you-”

“We may or may not have sneaked into a Muggle cinema.”

“A few times.”

“You know _Star Wars_.” Hal concluded. “Wow, okay. Anyway, er, thanks for the map, guys, but I hope you’re not expecting…”

“No strings attached.” Fred interrupted him. “Honestly, we want you to have it for all the reasons we said, but it’s not forward payment for anything. We hope you can benefit from it, the way we did, or for bigger things.” He shrugged. “No pressure.”

“Keep it safe, though.” George added. He mirrored his earlier movement of tapping the map with with wand, this time claiming proudly: “Mischief managed.”

Within a second, Hal was again holding a blank piece of parchment, which he folded back up carefully.

“How did you figure out the formulas?” He asked.

“We talked to it.” Fred smiled. “It’s enchanted to respond to some extent when you try anything – and we tried _everything_.”

“How did you know it was even special?” Hal wondered.

“We did find it in the drawer called _Confiscated and Highly Dangerous_.” George specified.

Hal laughed. “Fair enough.”

“But we figured.” Fred continued. “Highly dangerous to Filch was probably highly interesting to us. So yeah, we didn’t give up, and eventually we figured it out, with a little help from _Mess_ _ieu_ _rs_ Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.” He nodded to the map, and Hal recognised the names he’d briefly seen at top of the parchment when it had first revealed itself as the map it was. “Guess they recognised us as like minds.”

“So, you know.” George shrugged.

“Use it wisely.” Fred winked.

* *

*

“He’s pleading Imperius.” Hal sighed, looking up from Sirius’ letter.

His godfather had written to him the following week, apologising for not doing it sooner – though Hal understood perfectly well that he’d had quite a lot on his mind, with pretty much four full days of being interrogated by Aurors and assessed by Mind Healers. He was staying at the Leaky Cauldron, ‘free’ to the extent he wasn’t allowed to leave Diagon Alley and was kept under a spell Hal understood was the Wizard equivalent of a probation electronic tag, for as long as they decided he was still a person of interest, which would take a while. 

Dumbledore was doing his best to  use his influence to  speed along the process, and Sirius himself had called upon  a lawyer who was working hard to get him not only completely cleared of all charges with his record wiped, but also compensation for the wrongful imprisonment, and full access to his family vault and properties (seized by the Ministry at the end of the First War),  but it would still be a long process. 

Anyway, the letter had reached Hal on the Saturday, after the Quidditch game which Sirius regretted he hadn’t been able to attend. Hal would have to reassure him he probably wouldn’t have seen much anyway, given the absolutely horrendous weather, reducing visibility to almost nothing. Hal wasn’t sure how either team had been able to fly, let alone see enough of the balls to play with them. Gryffindor had lost, though they’d been in the lead, only because the Snitch had ended up hitting the Slytherin Seeker in the face after two hours of misery. Sirius hadn’t missed much, really.

His news was more interesting. Pettigrew was now claiming he had been under the Imperius Curse at the time of his betrayal of the Potters, and though he personally was too meek (or stupid) to further claim that Sirius  _had_ been the traitor this whole time, his lawyer certainly wasn’t. He was going down the line of defence that making poor Peter the Potters’ Secret Keeper, as a gentle soul susceptible to being Imperiused, had been part of Sirius Black’s evil plan to sell out their location to the Dark Lord while protecting himself. Sirius’ lawyer was of course arguing that it would have been a pretty stupid plan given that Sirius had been the one to end up in Azkaban, and Peter the one in hiding. Of course the next argument was that Pettigrew had been so afraid of backlash from both sides, he’d  _had_ to hide. 

“Says it’s weak and desperate and most likely won’t hold, since he’s already said the opposite under the Veritaserum, and Dumbledore alone is a pretty strong witness.” Hal added, summarising Sirius’ words. “But it’ll make the whole thing last longer.”

“Cowardly bastard.” Ron commented.

“Sirius is hoping it’ll be sorted by Christmas and we can spend it together.” Hal finished before folding the letter and stuffing it into his pocket.

He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Sirius did not seem to understand that Hal had a loving family, that he wouldn’t have seen them for months and that Christmas was a time he was looking forward to spending with them. He understood – all Sirius knew about his aunt was what Lily had told him, at a time when the sisters were not getting along. At a time when Vernon had been alive, and a clear destructive force in the way of  any possible reconciliation. It made sense that Sirius would extrapolate that, and think having been raised by (in his mind, magic-hating) Muggles was a terrible thing that had happened to Hal.  And Hal guessed they didn’t know each other well enough for his word that he’d had a very happy childhood to fully get through to Sirius.

“We’ll cross that bridge.” Hal answered Draco’s worry-creased brow, Anthony’s questioning look and Hermione’s intake of breath, cutting short whatever queries were about to come from either of them.

“Will he have anywhere to go?” Hermione asked anyway. “When he’s officially free.”

“There’s a house in Brighton.” It was Draco who answered. 

He looked lofty when they all turned to him in surprise,  trying to pretend it was no big deal, the way he did when he mentioned something that made the gap between their social classes a bit too obvious. 

“What? My mother is a Black. Not all assets were seized by the Ministry, especially given that Sirius was disinherited at the time. This is a Noble and Most Ancient House, there is a _lot_ of property to manage. Some of which, my mother manages. Like a house in Brighton. We used to spend some time there on occasion when I was younger, when my mother wanted to be there for ‘the season’. Usually meant a lot of parties and shopping.”

“So does it go back to him now?” Anthony wondered.

“He’s the most direct Heir, so he’d be entitled to it – it’ll depend if he wants to lay claim on it all, or leave it as it is to the other branches. Well, I think it’s just one other direct living branch, now, my mother and her sisters, but Andromeda is in France and I don’t think she wants any of it, and Bellatrix, well.”

He sent an apologetic look towards Neville, who shrugged. The first time they’d discussed how the person responsible for pretty much making Nev an orphan was Draco’s aunt, it had been painful. Now, they were acting like it was all water under the bridge and they were over it. Totally over it.

“His mother had a town house in London too, anyway.” Draco added. “So if the outcome is that the Ministry has to give him back everything they seized back when he was arrested, he’ll probably chose to move in there rather than the seaside, I reckon.”

“The _Prophet_ is getting all aflutter about an inheritance war.” Pan butted in. “Like Draco said, it’s an old house. The Malfoys have an obvious connection, but there’s other further branches, so there’s speculation as to whether these people will start trying to claim their share of the fortune, if it’s going back out of the Ministry’s hands. They’re very excited about it. Rita Skeeter wrote this whole piece about how this generation of school friends would become foes, blah, blah.”

“This generation?” Ron picked up.

“Well, yeah. You guys.” Pan frowned when Ron just looked at him. “You do know you’re in there somewhere in the Black family tree, right? I mean, go back far enough, all the Pureblood Houses are related.

“Oh.” Ron blinked like he’d just realised this. “Yeah, actually, my dad’s mom maiden name _was_ Black. I never really thought about it.”

Pan rolled his eyes, but  he carried on without making a dig. “Yeah, so, Weasle y,  Malfoy, Potter, Longbottom – these are all families a Black has married into. And Skeeter knows you’re all friends. She’s loving it.”

“That woman is a menace.” Blaise grunted.

“She’s loving the rivals as well.” Pan continued. “Because then you’ve got the ones who married into the Blacks at some point in history, daughters from families like the Bulstrodes, Crabbes, Flints…”

Draco winced at that, and Hal bristled.

“Flint is related to the Blacks?” He asked coldly.

“Well, not really.” Pan shrugged. “If you mean Marcus, then one of his great-great-aunts married Phineas Black, but that’s tenuous. They’re all tenuous, to be honest, but that won’t stop the _Daily Prophet_.”

“How do you know all this?” Neville asked Pan with something like wonder.

“I had to learn it.” Pan answered. “My father was of the belief that politics for women was knowing all the connections and knowing when and how to play them. As opposed to a more power-driven approach for men. Sword versus poison and all that, figuratively.” He shrugged again. “But actually, I found that I quite like genealogy.”

“I find it disturbing that you’re all related, personally.” Blaise pouted.

“By which you mean jealous.” Pan retorted. “Everyone knows the Zabinis are _nouveau riche_ and your mother’s been trying to marry a proper Pureblood heir her whole life. Or get you to marry one. Sadly, you’re a bloke, you won’t take someone else’s prestigious name. Well. Unless you do.”

He smirked, Blaise spluttered, and they started bickering, to which Hal tuned out in favour  of poking  Ron’s arm.

“You still mad?” He asked him.

Ron had been a little hurt  when Hal  had  finally got ten around to showing his friends the  Marauders M ap, and explain ed how Fred and George had entrusted it to him.  He thought, as their brother, they should at least have mentioned it to him.

“I was never mad at you.” Ron said. “But no, I’m not mad at them either. I get it. It’s a brother thing.”

Hal didn’t really know what he meant by that, but he supposed if his friend wasn’t pissed off, it was good enough for him.

“It’s not like I won’t share.” He grinned.

They had already had a moment of extreme excitement upon realising there was a secret passageway to the basement of Honeydukes, though that had earned them a punch each from Hermione who had made them promise that they would absolutely  _not_ sneak out of the school breaking a million rules and looking for trouble, and a judgmental look from Draco at the idea of stealing – like they were peasants who couldn’t afford to buy the sweets, not that he put it in those exact terms. Ron had tried to argue that he, in fact, could not afford it, but as he was at the same time swearing that he’d never intended to  _steal_ , he wasn’t like that, it had gone a little unnoticed.

B ut not entirely – it had given Hal an idea, and he needed to talk to Draco about it, maybe when he was no longer getting his knickers in a twist over Sirius Black. The events had upset him, though Hal was having a hard time really understanding all the reasons why. He was sure Draco would get over it, though.

“Hey, I was thinking.” Anthony leaned in towards them, clearly not interested in the Slytherin’s showdown either. “Your godfather told you they were really close, right, him and your dad, and Pettigrew, and Professor Lupin.”

“Yeah.” Hal nodded. “He said he had loads of stories, but I don’t think he wants to put them in letters. I’ll have to wait till I can see him again and spend time with him.”

“I have a feeling.” Hermione piped up with a sigh. “That it’s all going to be stories about their many mischiefs.”

T hey had overheard McGonagall muttering that ‘these boys would never cease causing trouble’ and telling Lupin that she was glad he, at least, had settled down a bit, and not to let Black’s reappearance undo all his hard work to be a functioning, reasonable adult.

“I wish you’d focus on how talented with magic they were.” Hermione added.

“Yeah, yeah.” Hal waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve already told me about my mom and dad’s amazing OWL and NEWT results in first year. I’m trying not to fail them monumentally, alright?”

“You’re not.” Hermione assured kindly. “But that’s not what I meant – I meant the fact they became Animagi. That is really difficult magic, and it takes a lot of dedication.”

“That’s what got me thinking.” Anthony pulled himself back into the conversation. “If the four of them were such good friends, and we know _three_ of them managed to become Animagi.”

“Yes?” Hal prompted him, when Anthony paused for effect, or to make sure he had his full attention.

“What Animagus was Professor Lupin?” He challenged.

They all paused to give that a though.

“Maybe he wasn’t one.” Ron suggested.

“Maybe.” Anthony conceded. “But like I said, if they were so close. And _Pettigrew_ was one. Sorry, but I don’t think he was the brightest of the lot, so if he could manage it… It’d seem odd, is all.”

“It’s a good point.” Hal recognised. “It didn’t come up, but I suppose I could ask Sirius.”

“You could ask Lupin directly.” Ron pointed out.

“He’s a professor.” Hal looked spooked at the idea. “I can’t go off asking him personal questions like that.”

“Because asking someone else behind his back is better?” Neville noted.

Hal was about to answer, but he noticed the look on Hermione’s face, like she was holding her tongue so hard it was causing her physical pain.

“What?” He probed her.

“Well, I… noticed something.” She said hesitantly. 

“You shock me.” Draco drawled – he had been watching Pan and Blaise’s argument, which had somehow turned to fighting about their Potions skills, with something like delight, but the two boys had taken it far enough to challenge each other to a brew-off, so they’d gone now, and Draco had brought his attention back to the rest of his friends.

H ermione pursed her lips at him. “I’ll keep it to myself if you don’t want to know.”

“Of course we want to know.” Anthony rolled his eyes. “Knowing what you know _literally_ saves lives.”

Hermione flushed slightly, like she still did every time her outstanding reasoning in figuring out the Basilisk and Chamber of Secrets was mentioned.

“Well, when we met him on the train.” She started exposing. “He said he’d been ill. And at the end of September, he looked really rough again for a few days. And only last week, Professor Snape had to cover some of his classes.”

“Alright, so maybe he’s always been in rubbish health and it’s stopped him from going through the Animagus process?” Neville surmised.

“Could be.” Hermione nodded, in a way that indicated quite clearly that theory had been thought of, analysed and dismissed already. “But I’ve checked all those dates.”

“And?” Ron prompted.

“And.” She seemed to hesitate again, but she knew their _get on with it_ looks well by now. “They match the lunar calendar.” She completed. “Full moons.”

There was a moment of silence, which Draco broke with a snort. “You think he’s a  _werewolf_ ?” 

“It fits.” Hermione glared at him.

“They wouldn’t let a werewolf teach in a school full of children.” Draco argued.

“If anyone would, it would be Dumbledore.” She argued back.

“It’s still a stretch.” Anthony said with a frown. “But it _does_ seem like an odd coincidence.”

“Right?” Hermione took that as him siding with her. “So what if your dad, Hal, and his friends, became Animagi for him?”

“For him?” Hal repeated, not really seeing what it had to do with it.

“Werewolves are obviously extremely dangerous to humans, on a full moon.” Hermione explained. “But I’ve read they don’t present a danger to animals. It even helps them to retain a bit more of their consciousness, to be with animals, that’s why werewolves usually live in packs – keeps them sane. Other animals won’t have quite the same effect, but they help. So maybe they wanted to help.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Draco looked dumbfounded that she was still going down that line. “Extremely dangerous to humans. Yes. _Extremely dangerous_.”

“Obviously that’d be why he’s not in the school during full moons.” Hermione said, undeterred. “And.” She lifted a finger before Draco could speak again. “It’s not like candidates are lining up for the job. Whether or not it’s true, and proof to the contrary hasn’t exactly been forthcoming, people believe in this curse. So maybe Dumbledore was a little desperate.”

“To the point of hiring a werewolf, though?” Neville expressed his doubts as well.

“Can’t really do worse than the one who was possessed by Voldemort.” Hal slipped in.

“Well, that settles it anyway.” Ron sighed, and expanded when everyone else gave him a questioning look. “We definitely can’t ask him.”

Hal winced. “I can’t exactly ask Sirius either.”

“You can still ask him if he’s an Animagus.” Anthony countered. “See how he reacts.”

“I won’t see his reaction in a letter.” Hal reminded him.

“Tell you what.” Hermione settled. “Let’s see what happens at the next full moon. If there’s evidence that Professor Lupin is again _coincidentally_ ill at that time… then we can decide if we want to confront them about it, I guess? And you might see Sirius in person again by that point.”

“Sounds like a good compromise.” Hal agreed.


	7. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for blood and injury in this chapter.

November had gone by in a blur, of dreary weather and drearier Quidditch practices (Oliver was  running the Gryffindors ragged,  most definitely not happy they had lost their first game,  and Draco faced his own share of high-pressure drills ), homework, exploring the Marauder’s Map and the secrets of the castle thanks to it, and letters from Sirius  which Hal read or summarised to them when they arrived . The legal proceedings were slow going, and he was still under investigation until further notice, it seemed the Aurors did not want to take any chances. It helped his case that he was not bearing the Dark Mark, but then it also helped Pettrigrew’s since neither was he. Sirius had volunteered to submit himself to Veritaserum, but building a resistance to it was possible, and for that reason it was usually considered a lot more solid proof when someone was confessing to guilt rather than pleading innocence. 

Before they knew it, it was three weeks to Christmas,  and they were arguing about what to do regarding Lupin. The previous full moon, bang on, had seen the teacher disappear for a few days and coming back looking like he hadn’t slept in that whole time, with  Snape covering Defence Against the Dark Arts. Not just that, but he had actually given them a lesson about werewolves and how to recognise them, looking utterly spiteful about it.

“He’s usually a subtle man.” Draco had noted wryly. “But I think there’s some history there. They were in the same year at school, and I don’t think they really got along…”

He had tried asking his godfather about it, but the man had gotten really tetchy and made it clear it was not something he wanted to discuss, so Draco had had to let it go.

“I say we leave it.” Was Neville’s stance, which Draco and Hal tended to agree with. “He’s not doing any harm, he clearly has things under control. I doubt Dumbledore would have hired him without precautions.”

“But don’t you want to know for sure?” Was Hermione’s way of seeing it, alongside Anthony and Ron (the latter out of pure curiosity, rather than the other two’s unquenchable need for knowledge).

They had not told Pan and Blaise about their theory, because Blaise could not refrain from spreading good gossip, it was like a disease, and Pan had enough on his mind, hitting a hard part of his transition as  new hormones ran rampage and he  had to  juggle that with a heated correspondence with his parents, who had briefly tried bringing him back to the fold. The response of ‘Yes, I’m still a boy, now and forever’ had not been well-received, and Pan had been fending off Howlers since.

“What difference would it make?” Hal told Hermione. “It’s not like we want to expose him. We’ll probably know at some point, when it’s a good time to ask, but we can’t just butt in like ‘By the way!’ – it’s a private thing, he doesn’t owe us the truth or anything.”

“Like Nev said, as long as he’s got it under control.” Draco added.

H ermione proceeded to sulk after that, but as they were in the library doing their homework, they all pretended not to notice. Well, homework. Draco and Hal were passing notes, working on the plan for Ron that Hal had come up with (Anthony was on to them, but he’d only rolled his eyes at it), which had led them to discuss another theory, blissfully unrelated to the werewolf one, which was that Ron was developing a crush on Hermione. They were arguing if that was because he actually liked her, or because she was the only girl he was constantly exposed to and he had no imagination.

Draco had been a little wary, at first, that the speculations would lead Hal to start wondering about the rest of their group and who they each might have a crush on, but it quickly became clear he had no interest in steering away from what, Draco suspected, they both saw as a safe subject of conversation. Kept them away from all the uncomfortable ones, and it really was good fun.

T hey were not the only ones not really focusing on their homework all that much; in fact, even Hermione got distracted momentarily, when a Ravenclaw girl who was helping with decorating the library for Christmas (in her case, it consisted in waving her wand in swirling patterns, creating glistening fractals on the edges of the shelves, like they were covered in frost) stopped to talk to her. It lasted long enough that the rest of them took notice, and watched the end of their interaction – the girl walking away and Hermione looking back down to her book with way too much casualness. 

They left it for a few minutes, before Neville cleared his throat.

“Hermione?”

“Hm?” She hummed airily, still focused on her book.

“Who was that?”

“A girl from Ancient Runes.” Hermione said. “We’ve been talking quite a lot, her theories on the impact of the material on which runes are drawn… Never mind.”

“Alright, but… did she just slip you her number?” Neville pushed.

“She’s Muggleborn.” Hermione said, as if that explained it.

“She was flirting with you.” Neville concluded.

Hermione did not deny it, and she also couldn’t quite manage to stop looking vaguely pleased.

“Why are you being flirted at by girls?” Ron asked, failing not to sound put out. 

Hal and Draco exchanged a look at that, repressing a smirk. Their theory seemed to have a leg to stand on.

“Probably because she thought I might be interested.” Hermione answered, trying to make it sound like she was supremely unaffected by the prospect.

“But why would she think-”

“It’s not like it’s that surprising, Ron.” Anthony interrupted. “A lot of the school thinks we’re all queer.”

“What? Why?”

Anthony shrugged. “Pan has made it clear. Then they naturally assume Draco and I are at least open-minded about it.”

“Why the two of you?” Neville asked, as Ron’s jaw was hanging too low for him to voice the question.

Anthony shrugged. “It’s pretty common among Ravenclaws.”

“Ravenclaws specifically?” Hal prompted curiously.

He’d noticed boys and girls hanging together with no apparent fear of being called gay, something that he didn’t think would happen in the Muggle world, as limited as his experience was in the matter, but he’d not particularly seen a trend towards more Ravenclaws doing that compared to other Houses.

“Well.” Anthony grinned. “You know how they say rooming in pairs rather than in dorms fosters studying.”

“Yeah…”

“Fosters other things, too.”

“Oh my god.” Ron put his hands over his face, mortified. He then removed them, looking alarmed. “Wait, you two aren’t...”

Anthony  laughed,  a simple way to dismiss that without really denying it – Draco wished he could feel as casual as h e seemed  on the topic – and  turned back to Hermione.

“So, are you interested?”

That distracted  Ron  from the idea Anthony and Draco  might in any way be exploring the privacy of their twin room, as he  shifted to looking  a little alarm ed at the prospect of finding out the answer to that question.  It prompted  Hal and Draco to  share another amused look, but Hermione shrugged, her cheeks barely tinted pink.

“I won’t lie and say it’s not nice.” She admitted. “But I’m not into girls. I just hope we can be friends.”

“Isn’t that a bit cruel if she’s in love with you?” Draco wondered.

The look that Hermione gave him then made his blood run cold. _She knows_ , Draco thought. _Oh Morgana, she knows I’m in love with Hal, how could I be so stupid and ask that question_. Thankfully, though, Hermione said nothing either way, and simply scoffed.

“She’s not in love with me.” She countered. “It’s not just me she’s shown interest in, if you must know. She’s just… exploring her sexuality. I believe she wants to find a girlfriend, sure, but I’m not her only option. Plus.” She looked towards Draco again, and he really wished she’d stop that. “Can’t you be friends with someone you have a crush on?”

“Depends how bad your crush is.” Hal smirked, looking at Draco but clearly thinking of Ron.

Draco couldn’t quite bring himself to grin back with the same amusement, so he deflected.

“Like Neville and Hannah.” He teased.

Neville rolled his eyes. “I do not have a crush on Hannah.” He defended.

“Oh, but she does on you.” Anthony asserted. “So that the perfect example. You just want to be friends, and she’s hoping for a bit more, but she’s happy with the status quo.”

“She’s not… oh, whatever.” Neville pouted.

“Don’t sweat it.” Anthony patted his arm. “Let it happen. Or not happen.”

“Great advice.” Neville retorted drily. “Is that what you’re doing?”

“Oh, I have a rule.” Anthony said casually. “I’m not dating till fourth year.”

“Why?” Hermione chuckled.

“I don’t know.” Anthony shrugged. “I think I decided that years ago, and, I don’t know, I just stuck with it.”

“You’re all weirdos.” Ron sighed fondly.

* *

*

Severus would never outright admit it to Draco, or anyone else for that matter, but his godson had been right. Since he’d stopped vocally focusing on Longbottom his utter contempt for the ineptitude of this generation at brewing simple potions, the young Gryffindor seemed to actually be making fewer errors. After a week or two of lessons where Severus just let him be, he’d stopped drawing his head back into his shoulders each time the professor walked past. Following that, his confidence had grown, and his potion-making skills – though still severely substandard at best – had somewhat improved. He didn’t seem so terrified anymore, casting Severus anxious look every time he handled an ingredient.

Severus would never ha ve thought his treatment of a student could spark terror to such an extent he’d be that kid’s Boggart;  he was harsh, he knew that, and he was certainly not trying to be their friends, but he wasn’t a  _bully_ . The term grated on a personal level. B ut he often forgot just how _young_ they were when they first came to Hogwarts, how impressionable.  Maybe it was a good thing Draco had reminded him of that. At least, cutting Longbottom some slack did seem to have improved things for him, and as a consequence, for the rest of the class and Severus himself,  he thought .

Of course, this was when it backfired horribly.

S everus was a little distracted, though not completely surprised, to see the usual potion partners had changed today. Maybe it was a testament to Longbottom’s growing confidence, that he had separated from Granger, or maybe it was that Potter was sitting with Parkinson  instead of Weasley,  who had therefore claimed the spot next to  Granger , which left Longbottom to partner with Patil – or maybe  _that_ was due to the petty feud that seemed to be going on at the moment between her and Brown, which Sev did not want to know about. He was certain they’d be the best of friends again in two days anyway.

It didn’t particularly matter; the potion Severus had set them for the class was to be brewed individually, and though each pair shared a space, they all had their own cauldron and ingredients. As Sev circulated through the classroom, keeping an eye on everyone, he off-handedly made his comments where they were needed without thinking much of it. One such comment he made to Longbottom, as the bubbling liquid in front of him, for once, was at least the right colour at this stage.

“Good work. Carry on.”

He saw it almost in slow motion as it happened. Longbottom startled at being addressed, his jaw fell open in the next moment as he realised he wasn’t being berated or snapped at… and he dropped the entire  onion he was holding (on his way to extract the needed juice) into his potion.

S everus would not have expected third years to know the effect of onion flesh, and a lot of it, on a partially (and likely imperfectly) brewed  cleansing potion, but he was sure they would remember, after this,  what happened when you thus suddenly added the unwanted ingredient  to the brew .

It exploded. With  immediacy and  extreme violence.

Severus’ non-verbal  _Protego_ was  fired  as quick ly as he could lift his arm. Years as Hogwarts’ Potions Master had honed his very quick reflexes, and he limited a lot of the damage to adjacent desks. Even Miss Patil, who had screamed and ducked, was mostly unharmed –  she’d have burns on her arms where she’d raised them to protect her face,  but at a glance, her injuries looked minor .

This was more than could be said for Longbottom. He’d been too close to the cauldron for the spell to give him any protection, and he’d been hit by the full force of the blast – which may still have been  a case for a quick trip to the hospital wing if  only  the  contents of the  cauldron  had  exploded, and not  also the cauldron itself . A s it were,  however, the equipment had shattered under the power of the blow, and  a large piece of pewter had flown right at the boy and lodged itself just above his collarbone.  Severus did his best to ignore the sight of the blood splattering out of his student’s neck, the way he fell forwards to the ground after the blast had thrown him into the desk behind him, the screams of his classmates; he just focused on getting to him.

Any respectable Potions apprenticeship included first aid spells, as well as some more advanced ones for serious accidents, and while Severus – thank Merlin – hadn’t had to use much of those over the years, he  had learned them during his training. He had also always made it a point of  personal and  professional pride to keep himself up to date, both in  their theory and in their  practice, in case something disastrous (or, more disastrous than usual) happened in his classroom.  As he used such a spell on Longbottom (a less aggressive, medical ised version of  _Petrificus Totalus_ to ensure he was kept immobile and his blood flow was slowed, a first response spell for penetrative wounds) once again as quickly as he could reach him, he has a moment of absolute clarity: he had just saved the boy’s life.

I t had never happened to him before. There had been close calls over the years, narrowly avoided accidents and some rather serious injuries, but never anything  conclusively  life-threatening. This, however – Severus wasn’t sure how much damage the piece of metal had done to Longbottom, but he knew for certain that without his intervention, he would have bled to death in under two minutes. The spell on its own wasn’t enough, though, and would only hold for so long – in fact, Severus knew he could hardly stop channelling his magic to maintain the stasis,  even for a moment . He  re focused  the spell on to Longbottom’s upper  chest, neck and head in order to save his strength, though that meant that in the meantime, he couldn’t do anything for the other wounds, several cuts bleeding more or less freely and some severe burns, which while less critical, did not look good either.

“Potter.” He barked at the boy, who was the closest in his line of vision. “Go to the infirmary and tell Madam Pomfrey to Floo St Mungo’s _right now_. We need transport to the hospital and a full medical team for when he gets there. Do not walk.”

Potter was out of the room almost before he’d finished talking, and Sev turned to  check over  Patil,  looking her up and down, but his first assessment had been correct –  as far as he could tell,  only the potion and flames had touched her, none of the flying bits of metal. However, she also  looked  to be in shock;  it would be  pointless addressing her directly.

“Granger.” He picked out the other girl. “Take Miss Patil to get checked out – you don’t need to run. Anyone else in need of medical attention, go. Zabini. There is Calming Draught in the store room for anyone who needs it. The rest of you, if you are fine, class dismissed.”

To his relief,  while most of them looked shaken,  none of the other students actually  seemed injured, thanks to his protection spell. Only two of them followed Granger and Patil out to the infirmary: Nott, who had fallen off his stool and sprained his wrist,  and Finnigan who had managed to be sick, partially faint, and be sick again in the span of two minutes. He had been sat right behind Longbottom and was covered in his blood –  quite an alarming amount of blood . Severus was surprised to actually see Nott offer him his good arm for support as they both left.

Z abini distributed some Calming Draught, and the room had mostly emptied (Weasley, Parkinson and Zabini were still there, and Potter who had come back running once his mission was accomplished) by the time Severus heard the Floo from his office at the back roar to life, and  a team of Mediwizards swooped in.  They took over the stabilising spells, one of them commended Severus on his quick thinking, and within a minute, they were setting up for transportation. 

Severus had only seen it once in practice; it was a rune-based spell that needed at least three wizards to cast, in order to create a stable plane for transference. It was related to Apparition, but much less abrupt, and was used to transport patients in critical conditions with minimal movement. Severus couldn’t help a purse of his lips as one of the Healers started tracing runes on his classroom floor, but he supposed it was a small price to pay if Longbottom made it out alive, as much as he disregarded the boy. Very quickly, the team were ready – three placed in a triangle to hold the spell, and another two holding Longbottom steady.

“We’ll let you know.” One of them assured, before they started chanting the incantation.

Then, in a golden blur, they were gone.  Sev closed his eyes briefly, and allowed himself to be exhausted for all of  seven seconds, but duty still called, and he turned to the small cluster of Longbottom’s friends, pale and shocked and clearly in need of some form of reassurance.

“He’s in good hands.” He told them.

That was the best he could do while staying honest. He couldn’t guarantee the boy would be fine – his medical knowledge did not extend far enough to assess at a glance the exact gravity of the situation, only that it was pretty bad.  He could only hope he’d cast his spell quickly enough (he avoided looking at the pool of blood on the floor, and certainly tried not to tally how much that, and the quantity that had seeped into Finnigan’s hair and clothes, amounted to) and that the Healers’ team would have things under control.

“You should go back to your Common Room.” He told them. “Then get food. It will help.”

It was lunchtime, now, or at least it would be once this hour was actually up, so they wouldn’t need to go to their next class for a little while longer. And he had time to find Minerva and the other professors, in the meantime, to inform them of what had happened.

“Professor.” Potter spoke up in a tight voice.

“Yes?”

When the boy said nothing else, Parkinson gently grabbed his shoulders.

“Come on, Hal.” He nudged him. “Let’s go sit down somewhere, and wait for news.” He looked up to his professor. “You’ll let us know right away, right?”

“Of course.” Sev nodded.

“Thank you.” Parkinson inclined his head.

H e led Potter out, Zabini and Weasley following, subdued. Just as they reached the door, Potter whirled around, apparently having found his voice.

“Thank you.” He blurted out. “You- you helped him.”

“Contrary to what you may think, Mister Potter.” Severus said quietly. “I do not wish any of you dead, as hopeless as you are in my class.”

Potter did not smile – Severus had not really intended his vague attempt at humour to have that effect anyway – but he nodded his head gravely.

“Thank you.” He repeated.

* *

*

H al suspected the only reason the hospital was letting all of them in at once was because he was Harry Potter, but for once he wasn’t going to complain. As soon as school has broken for the Christmas holidays, himself and Anthony, Draco, Ron, Hermione, Pan and even Blaise had made the earliest arrangements they possibly could to visit Neville right away.

“You care?” Pan had challenged Blaise with a raised eyebrow.

Blaise had mirrored his expression with  a practised  unimpressed look  of his own .

“You think I’d hang out with all of you misfits if I didn’t care?”

“We’re not misfits.” Anthony argued. “We’re actually pretty popular.”

“He’s popular.” Blaise countered, pointing at Hal. He pointed at Draco next. “He’s rich.” And at Ron. “He’s related to the Weasley twins. The rest of you…” He shrugged.

Anthony rolled his eyes, but let it drop, as they were about to be admitted into Neville’s room.

After a long and delicate procedure to safely remove the piece of cauldron embedded into his neck without killing  him  and two weeks  in intensive  care on a strict  regimen of  potions, charms and rest, their friend was doing much better, though they were warned  that  he was still very tired and should not be overstimulated. 

Neville’s grandmother came out of the room as they went in, and gave them a wan smile. The poor woman looked drained. Mrs Weasley, who had accompanied the lot of them, was going to take her for a cup of tea while the children were in – she had hardly left her grandson’s bedside since she’d been allowed to sit with him, once he was in recovery. The school had contacted her right after the accident, but just like the rest of them, she’d had to wait to hear word from the hospital. Hal suspected that she, like all of them, hadn’t slept  at all that night.

Neville looked rather well,  in spite of lying in a hospital bed, and the smile that  _he_ gave them when they came in was blinding. 

“Guys!” He greeted happily. “They told me you asked to visit.”

“As soon as we possibly could.” Hermione confirmed, claiming the chair next to him and taking his hand. “Oh, I’ve taken notes in all classes for the past two weeks, so you won’t-”

“Hermione.” Ron interrupted, looking somewhere between amused and appalled. “Do you really think he cares about the classes he’s missed right now?”

Neville smiled at Hermione, who had an embarrassed little frown, but looked ready to argue.

“I’m sure I will when I’m out of here.” Neville said, nipping that in the bud. “Thank you.”

To be fair to Hermione, he probably would, and Hal thought maybe he should try to gather some kind of notes of their Divination lessons, since Hermione had actually dropped the subject – something none of them were sure whether to be shocked and surprised about or not.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Hal asked Neville, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind for now.

“Good.” Nev assured. “Much better than at the start, for sure. I see what you guys meant last summer, about being all drained of energy and like, not even have your magic respond.”

“Unpleasant, isn’t it.” Draco remembered with a wince.

“It’s coming back, though.” Neville added with another cheerful smile. “They say I can probably be home for Christmas.”

“That’s amazing!” Hermione clapped her hands.

“Yeah, I’m glad. For my nan, too. On the other hand.” Neville sighed. “That’s another week in here.”

“Hey, that’s not too bad.” Blaise said, patting his leg from where he was standing at the foot of the bed. “Trust me, I had a clear view, and you got off easy. That exploding cauldron could have taken your head off.”

“Maybe not right off.” Ron moderated. “But you certainly could have lost an eye.”

“Thanks, guys…” Neville said hesitantly, his smile a little fixed now.

“They’re right, though.” Hal said. “You were lucky. Also, Snape saved your life.”

“The horror.” Pan deadpanned.

N eville laughed, but sobered up quickly. “I know.” He admitted. “He came to see me.”

“Wow, seriously?”

“Yeah.” Neville shrugged. “I guess he just wanted to make sure a student hadn’t died on his watch. He didn’t say much, he was here like two minutes, but I heard the Mediwitches talk about how he cast a spell that meant I didn’t bleed out on the spot.”

“He did.” Hal confirmed. “He was quite impressive, really.”

“Must have been, if _you’re_ saying so.” Neville chuckled.

“Just getting it all out before I see Sirius.” Hal grinned back. “I don’t really know the details, but I know they hate each other.”

“Oh, you’re seeing him now?” Neville asked.

“Yeah, once we leave here.” Hal nodded. “The trial is dragging, so he’s still stuck at the Leaky, but the Aurors said we could go for lunch. I think we may or may not be followed by one of them, for my protection apparently, but hey.” He lifted one shoulder. “Better than nothing.”

He really wanted to get to know him, and while they had exchanged a few letters over the past week, Hal felt a bit cheated to not having been able to see him again since the day after Halloween,  which had  not  really been  in really conductive circumstances.  H e hadn’t been asked to testify  to anything, the trial was focusing more on twelve years ago than on his reappearance , so that chance hadn’t presented itself either. H al understood, of course, and he didn’t want to be a petulant child about it, Sirius had more important issues to focus on – like having his innocence confirmed and getting his estate back.

“What about you guys?” Neville asked. “Going home for Christmas?”

“Yeah.” Ron answered first. “We’ll drop Hermione off, then it’s full house at the Weasleys. Well, minus Bill. But Charlie should be home from Romania.”

“I was going to stay at Hogwarts.” Pan said. “But I got an invitation from both Draco’s and Blaise’s mothers, so I’ll spend a week with each.”

“You could have stayed with us again too.” Anthony said.

“I know, mate.” Pan smiled at him. “We’ll see what happens this summer, if your parents are still in a generous mood.”

“My aunt will pick me up tonight.” Hal took his turn. “Muggle Christmas for me.”

They talked for another few minutes before a Healer came in, and gently started ushering them out. They promised Neville to write, then they promised each other to write too as they said goodbye in front of the hospital, ready to each go their separate ways. Ron and Hermione found Mrs Weasley, Anthony’s dad was up front, and Draco, Blaise and Pansy followed Hal down to the Leaky Cauldron to Floo from there.

Sirius was in the main room of the pub, three empty cups in front of him, as if he’d been waiting down there since he’d been awake – which, really, Hal wouldn’t really have been that surprised. He must be going a little stir crazy by now, stuck here on his own, though Sirius had let slip that he’d received visits from Lupin. The man sprung to his feet when he spotted Hal, a smile breaking onto his face, fuller now, healthier than when Hal had first met him. He looked younger, and a lot more like the heir of a massive fortune than an escape convict, precisely the angle his lawyer was working very hard on.

Hal said a quick goodbye to his friends (clasped Blaise on the back, got a perfunctory _Bye then_ from Pan – he was already through the flames before Hal could react – and gave Draco a hug) before making his way to his godfather, who now had a slightly pondering look on his face.

“Was that the Malfoy kid?” He asked.

“Draco, yes.” Hal confirmed.

“You’re friends?” Sirius seemed surprised.

“Very good friends.” Hal said with a little insistence. “Is that a problem?”

The man shook his head. “No, no, of course not.  I just… don’t have all good memories of my cousins. And I certainly don’t of Lucius Malfoy.”

“Well, Lucius Malfoy is dead.” Hal said. Sirius showed no sign that he had or hadn’t already known. “And Draco is really great. And his mom is nice, so maybe give her another chance. She’s friends with my aunt.”

“She-” Sirius nearly choked, then barked out a laugh. “Narcissa Malfoy? She’s friends with your _Muggle_ aunt?”

“People change.” Hal frowned.

“I know, it’s just… wow.” He laughed again. “Alright,  fawn , we clearly both have a lot we want to find out. Shall we go eat  somewhere less depressing ?”

Hal laughed at the _fawn_ – it had been unexpected, he didn’t think anyone, anywhere, ever, had used that as a pet name, but he could imagine a younger Sirius joking about it and coining the term for him, what with Hal’s dad’s Animagus form. He liked it.

They found a cosy café, where they were both recognised and triggered a clear mix of reactions, but the Auror following them (“This is Terry”, Sirius had introduced him casually) made for quite an effective buffer as he sat at the next table looking pissed of at the whole world, and nobody made a move to either approach them or shout something at them, whether positive or negative.

They talked freely, laughing like they had known each other for years. Hal suspected it was  easier for Sirius, because Hal reminded him of his best friend, and it was  effortless like that, but to his surprise and delight, Hal felt no shyness towards the man  either . He felt comfortable, sharing came naturally. Maybe it was the way Sirius looked at him, like he was something precious that he’d missed very much.

Hal talked about his aunt and Ley, about his friends at school, and to a mix of horror, delight and pride from Sirius, about facing off Voldemort in his various manifestations. Sirius talked about his own time at Hogwarts – Hermione was right, it was mostly mischief – and carefully did not talk about his time in Azkaban. They both skirted around the topic of whether or not Remus (with how much Sirius used his first name, Hal had started thinking of his professor as such, much inconveniently) was an Animagus or a werewolf or neither.

“You seem to have had a lot of fun.” Hal simply commented.

“Yeah.” Sirius laughed. He had a fond, wistful look on his face a second later as he added: “We called ourselves the Marauders.”

Hal dropped his spoon, which clattered on the table, splashing ice-cream everywhere. Terry actually drew his wand, though he sat back down (looking almost disappointed) when he was satisfied nothing nefarious was going on. Hal was simply gaping at his godfather, who frowned worriedly at him.

“What?”

“The Marauders?” Hal repeated, just to be sure.

“Yeah.” Sirius nodded. “What-”

“I have your map.” Hal said.

It was Sirius’ turn to gape, and Hal explained how he’d recently acquired it from the Weasley twins.

“ These boys seem to take after Gideon and Florian a lot more than they do Molly.” Sirius shook his head, amused at Hal’s retelling of their conversation and Fred and George’s antics.

“Who are they?” Hal asked.

“Molly’s brothers.” Sirius replied, immediately sobered up. “They died during the First War.”

“Oh.”

Ron had never mentioned any late uncles, but then if they’d died during the war, he’d have been at most one year old – he wouldn’t remember them.  Sirius shared some stories he’d heard about them, from their time in Hogwarts, though they had been there quite a few years before he started. It did remind Hal a lot of the twins.

Cautiously, Hal also told Sirius about Pansy becoming Eitan, but if anything, Sirius seemed less interested in his transition than in the fact Hal had friends in Slytherin.

“ Inter-House unity seems a lot better than it was in my time.”  He commented. “Mind you, in my time most of the Slytherins were Death Eaters, so that didn’t help.”

“There’s still a lot of rivalry.” Hal moderated. “But yeah, I guess there’s also a lot of groups like us. What does it matter, really? I don’t think anyone should be strictly defined by their House. I mean, the Hat wasn’t sure where to put me. What if I’d ended up in Slytherin? Would I be a different person?”

“You- What?”

Sirius looked appalled. Hal raised an eyebrow.

“Does that not make me a true Gryffindor or such bullshit?” He challenged.

“I- No, I mean.” Sirius babbled. “I just didn’t expect that.”

“Not all Slytherins are evil.” Hal said more gently.

He did understand where Sirius was coming from – it felt a bit like trying to convince a World War I soldier back from the trenches that he could be very good friends with the Germans if he tried.

“I know that.” Sirius said with a pout. “And vice-versa.” He added with a sigh. “I mean, look at _Peter_.”

He said the name like he had to spit it out, baring his teeth  as he would if he  had been in his dog form.

“What are you going to do when you’re free?” Hal tried to divert the subject a little.

Sirius smiled, probably at Hal’s confidence that there was no doubt in his mind he would be free, eventually.

“Not sure.” He  answered . “If my lawyer is as good as he  keeps telling me he is , it’s not like I’ll really need to be working or anything.  My family was always… stinting, for people with such a  large fortune. There’s a lot of money  left to fall back on, if I do  get  access  to  it.”

“ I hope you do.” Hal said earnestly. “Then you’re really free to think about what you  _ want _ to do.”

“ I think I might want to travel a bit.” Sirius mused. “After spending so long in one place. But then… I’d also want to stay close to the people I’ve missed out on.” 

He gave Hal’s arm a playful nudge – they both saw Terry twitch  again  from the corner of their eye, and exchanged an amused look.  They most definitely did not giggle.

“Well, Harry-”

“Hal.” Hal corrected instinctively.

Sirius’ eyes widened, and Hal realised he had, in fact, not mentioned his nickname before.

“ That’s what my friends call me.” He explained with a shrug. “You can… you can call me that, if you want.”

The smile that bloomed on Sirius face was worth the awkwardness.


	8. January

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much shorter chapter. Was running out of plot and time!

Because they hadn’t really had time to discuss it, and because they all wanted to get Neville something, rather than a Secret Santa again, Hal and his friends found themselves with quite a large pile of presents to pass around when they came back from the Christmas break. Pan and Blaise were included this time too, though Blaise had gotten all of them the same thing:  a silver clasp for their cloaks. Only the colours of the embedded gems varied, depending on each of their Houses.

“ Good thing you got the memo about not flaunting your fortune.” Anthony teased, though he happily pinned the brooch to replace his cloak’s current fastening.

“I have money.” Blaise replied unapologetically. “What’s the point if I can’t use it?”

“ Don’t answer that.” Pan warned. “Or we’ll still be here tomorrow.” 

“ Right, well, I’ve given you my stuff.” Blaise shrugged. “Now get on with it.”

“ You do really channel the Christmas spirit.” Neville teased.

“Let’s see your game, Longbottom.” Blaise grinned back.

Neville dragged a bag to his lap and started pulling out small parcels.

“Alright, in my defence, I was in the hospital for half the holidays, and my nan did everything in her power to keep me lying down or sat down for the rest of it, so this is the best I could do.”

“We weren’t expecting you to go out of your way, don’t worry mate.” Ron assured him.

“ I didn’t.” Neville said sheepishly. “Literally. This is all from the nice clothes shop down the road from my house.”

He distributed what thus turned out to be various items of clothing – a lovely soft silver scarf for Hermione, five pairs of warm socks for Ron who was always complaining that his had holes (most of them had been Fred’s and/or George’s), a wand holster for Blaise that was meant to go perfectly with a waistcoat  (something Blaise unquestionably would wear) , a beanie in a gorgeous emerald green for Pan, definitely boyish in style, a glass case spelled to keep them clean when placed inside for Hal, fingerless gloves for Draco (designed for a n optimal  hold on a broom handle, for his Quidditch games) and  a  toiletry case for Anthony, on account of several complaints from Draco about his untidiness.

R on had to ask them not to laugh as he gave them each a hand-knitted hat from his mom (“Trust me, I didn’t  _ ask  _ for this!”) to which he’d added various small items from Zonko and Honeydukes.

Hermione had chosen various books for each of them, unsurprisingly, though maybe more so, they were all fiction. Muggle novels, more specifically, which delighted Pan and Draco, left Blaise affecting a sneer though his eyes were sparkling with interest, made Hal and Anthony laugh and Neville and Ron looking cautiously intrigued.

Hal had been inspired by the Marauder’s Map, and had hand-drawn (though he didn’t bring attention to that, he didn’t want to blow his own trumpet, even if he thought he’d done a pretty good job of them) various maps for them,  which he’d then framed : for Ron, a copy of the Marauder’s though without the enchantments; for Hermione, a carefully annotated map of the British Library, both Muggle and Wizarding sections includ ed ; for Anthony, a stylised map of America where he could pin where he’d travelled; Neville got a map of the grounds around Hogsmead and where some interesting plants allegedly grew; for Blaise, a full-colour map of the London Undeground since his mother had acquired a penthouse in Chelsea with her new husband (“You can’t Apparate for years, is that going to stop you from exploring?” he challenged); Pan received a map of Britain where Hal had drew miniature representations of each of their homes with the key  _ Places to crash _ ; and for Draco, it was a star map, on which Hal shyly pointed out the Draco constellation.

D raco looked somewhat emotional at that, but he brushed it off as he handed out his own presents, which were various potions in beautiful little crystal flasks with silver stoppers. Anthony muttered something about budget again, but he was very happy with his small dose of Pepper-Up – Neville had a plant fertilising potion, Hermione an energising one for those days she had to use the Time-Turner three times to make all her classes, Ron got  a potion that would allow him to see really far for a limited time , Hal one that made everything taste like treacle tart  ( a sure guilty pleasure of his ) ,  Pan a hair-dying potion as he’d mentioned wanting to further experiment with his new looks, and Blaise the equivalent of cologne.

Pan, who had shopped with Draco for this, also had items from the Apothecary to give them, though they were of the more recreational kind – spirits, in fact, though in their non-alcoholic, underage-friendly versions. But as magic was involved, unlike in the Muggle world, they tasted exactly like the real thing, and they actually had something of a party passing them around and tasting the different flavours. Hal thought he quite liked gin and rum, on the whole, was a lot less partial to vodka and bourbon, and thought tequila tasted like a burnt car tyre. 

F inally, Anthony had gone the pet-related route. He had cat toys for Crookshanks and Little Silver, a water-purifier for Trevor’s tank, a falconry glove for Blaise who, yes, had falcons at home, because he was Blaise, and owl treats for Ceridwen and Pan’s own owl, Supercilious. Ron had grown a frown throughout the whole distribution, probably thinking this was all rather insensitive given the only recent history with  _ his _ pet, until Anthony handed the last parcel out to him with a grin.

“And this is for you. And, okay, I confess, it was my idea, but those guys helped me out.”

Still looking wary, Ron opened the box, and found a nest of paper and rags from which peeked out a small fluffy ball.

“New year.” Anthony smiled. “New pet.”

“A Puffskein?” Ron lifted the little thing in awe.

“Honestly, beats a rat.” Blaise said drily. “Even if yours hadn’t turned out to actually be a man.”

Hermione elbowed him, but Ron seemed too distracted to care about his usual callousness anyway.

“I had one as a kid.” He  reminisced , tickling the pet. “Fred and George used to nab it to play catch, and I think at one point they used their Quidditch bat… either way it didn’t end well.” He laughed at the creature peeped, jumped up and down in his hands and darted its pink tongue out. “I’ll  watch out for this one better.”

“Bonus is.” Anthony added, pleased with himself. “It eats spiders.”

Ron laughed. “You guys rock.”

* *

*

Neville paused at the entrance of the Potions classroom, looking in warily, as if he was going to see a pool of his blood still on the floor. There was, of course, no evidence left of what had happened, not even a stain or faint marks from the runes the St Mungo’s staff had used to transport him.

“You okay?” Hal asked him softly.

“I- yes.” Neville assured. “Though I thought, maybe, I should sit at the front.”

This way, he would even have his previous spot in his line of vision, which Hal thought was probably a good idea for a while. He nudged him to a table in the second row and sat with him. Neville took a few deep breaths, but other than that, he looked determined to just get through the class, and he asked Hal to stop looking at him like he was about to fall apart, assuring him that his dread was no higher than what he usually experienced when faced with a new potion to brew.

Snape ignored the students, as was usual of him, when he swooped into the  classroom , other than ordering them to read through the instructions on the board and get started instead of gawking like Plimpies. He did turn to Neville, however, when he heard  the snort  that escaped him .

“Do you have a comment to make, Longbottom?” Snape challenged, clearly intent on not mollycoddling him, whatever had transgressed the last time he’d been in this room.

“No, sir.” Neville replied, chastised but with still the hint of a smile. It certainly was the most bravado he’d ever shown in front of the Potions Master. “It’s just… fitting.”

He pointed at the board, which Snape turned to as if he’d forgotten what was written there in his own handwriting. _Blood-Replenishing Potion_.

“ Yes.” Snape said tersely. “Since you’ll have first-hand experience of the effects of this potion, I expect your essay following this class to be somewhat less dismaying than usual. Now silence, and on with the practical, all of you.”

The rest of the class went rather well – at any rate, Neville would probably say every class where he didn’t explode anything went rather well,  going forward .  At lunchtime, t hey told Draco and Anthony about Snape’s attitude  with amusement; they were all ready to laugh about it rather than be irritated .

“Yeah, well.”  Draco shrugged  with a smile. “He doesn’t really do sentiment.”

“No shit.” Hal snorted.

“ He’s not a bad person.” Draco sighed, arguing that point for what was probably the hundredth time.

“We know that.” Ron commented. “He just always acts like a git.”

“Godfather,  _ et caetera _ .” Draco  reminded him half-heartedly .

“Yeah, yeah, sorry for insulting your family.” Ron grinned with good humour. “ You said it yourself, though.”

“I said he could be prickly.” Draco argued. “It’s hardly the same as-”

“Guys.” Anthony interrupted with a sigh. “Can we not have this conversation,  _ again _ ?”

B oth Ron and Draco opened their mouths to argue back, but Hal interrupted all of them to draw their attention to a commotion at the Gryffindor table (they were sat on Ravenclaw’s today).

“ Hey, what’s going on over there?”

Curious, and out of commitment to House solidarity for the Gryffindors among them, they made their way to the red and gold table. Two first-year girls were crying, a third looked like she had seen a ghost, another was shaking though it wasn’t clear if it was from fear or fury, and a group of older girls were trying to calm the whole lot down.

“There’s a Boggart in their dorm.” Ginny informed them when she saw them. “They went back for their stuff for their afternoon classes, and it badly scared them.”

“ Don’t worry about it.” Katie Bell said to the younger girls with authority. “We’ll take care of it tonight, okay? In the meantime, you don’t need to go there, and it won’t do any harm.”

E veryone thought it was sensible. Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson had already caught McGonagall to inform her of the situation, and their Head of House had asked them if they wanted her to get rid of it or warn Professor Lupin, but the fifth-years girls had declined, citing what good practice it would be for their OWLs.

T hings did not exactly go to plan that evening.  Hal was sat with Hermione in the Common Room (Ron and Neville had gone up to play Exploding Snap with Dean and Seamus) when they heard shouts and screams, and a dark shape swooshed down the stairs leading up the girls dorms – something that looked like a Kelpie, if Hal remembered accurately from his copy of  _ Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them _ . Given that he also remembered these lived in water and he knew about the Boggart hunt  that had been going on upstairs , Hal did not feel remotely alarmed at the sight.

Until, of course, the creature stopped dead in front of their table, and shifted its shape. Hal happened to be closer, and before he knew it, a cold wind snuffed half the candles, even the fire dimmed in the hearth, iciness filled the room, accompanied by the cold dread that the Boggart Dementor brought with it – and Hal could hear screaming, in his mind, cries for mercy.  _ Not Harry, please _ .  The creature reached for him, skeletal hands lifting up as if to remove its hood, and Hal could only stare in horror. He felt himself starting to feel faint, and he knew he needed to do something, there was a spell, but he felt so cold, and his  _ mother _ was screaming and if he could help her, but he couldn’t, he was so far away, he was so young and so weak…

“Hal!”  Hermione’s voice pierced through the fog, just as warmth started to seep back into his limbs.

He blinked his eyes open. He was on the floor, the Boggart was gone, the room was light and warm again. Hermione had her wand out, and a concerned look on her face. Everyone else in the Common Room had a concerned look on their faces. Ron and Neville and Dean and Seamus were standing on the stairs with a concerned look on their faces. Hal heard several whispers of  _ Is he okay _ and  _ What happened _ .

He pushed himself off the floor and fled before the concern turned to pity and mockery, ignoring his friends’ calls behind him. He thought he even heard someone chase after him, so he started running, barely with any sense of direction, just until he was sure he’d lost  whomever it had been and there was nobody  left following. He found an empty classroom, and dropped  into a chair, leaning his elbows on the desk  and burying his head into his arms. He was pathetic. 

“ Harry?”

Hal startled, realising he’d almost dozed off, somewhere between two of the deep breaths he’d been taking to fend off both nausea and tears. He wasn’t sure if he’d been there an hour, or just a few minutes.

Remus – Professor Lupin – was standing near the door, and took a few cautious steps towards him.

“ I ran into Miss Granger in the corridor.” He told Hal. “She was looking for you, I offered to help.”

He held out a small parcel of greaseproof paper, which Hal unwrapped to find a chunk of chocolate. He bit into it, more to give himself something to keep his hands busy than for real concern at appearing ungrateful if he didn’t take it.

“I guess she told you what happened, then.” He said sullenly.

“Yes.” Lupin confirmed, as he took a seat at a nearby desk. “And Harry, there is nothing-”

“Nothing to be ashamed of, I know.” Hal cut him off. “ That’s just bullshit.”

Lupin pursed his lips, but he didn’t pick him out on the swearing, as Hal scoffed and continued.

“You know, I saw Sirius before Christmas.” He said, and he spotted how Remus’ face lit up a little. “And he said several times how my parents would have been proud of me. I don’t think they would.” He finished wretchedly.

“Oh, Harry.” Lupin breathed out softly. “Of course they would have been.”

“No.” Hal shook his head, his throat hurting from the effort of not crying. “They were brilliant, I mean, my dad became an Animagus, you guys made that map, I know my mother was clever like Hermione, and I- I can’t even face a bloody  _ Boggart _ . I fainted in front of it like an idiot.”

He put his head back in his arms, though he looked up again when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Lupin was leaning over him, looking kind, but serious.

“You fainted in front of a Dementor.” He argued. “ It isn’t that your fear is stronger than the next person, that is not why you are so affected. But by taking the form of fear itself, the Boggart is… overpowered, in a way. You are left with how a Dementor makes you feel, not a Boggart. I’m almost wondering if a simple  _ Riddikulus _ would cut it.”

Hal frowned at him, somewhere between hope and confusion. It did make him feel better to have it suggested that, even if he’d found the strength to use the simple spell, it wouldn’t have worked.

“Really?”

“It’s been known to happen.” Lupin nodded thoughtfully. “When I was studying after Hogwarts, in fact, a girl in my class was terrified of Sphinxes. And when she faced a Boggart that took that shape, it just wouldn’t go away until she’d answered the riddle. Now, I don’t know if she was subconsciously blocking her magic  own  when casting  _ Riddikulus _ , but as far as we all could tell, the spell just wasn’t working.”

“ Okay.” Hal said slowly, processing the information. “You think that might be what’s happening to me?”

“It seems very likely.” Lupin admitted.

“So what now?” Hal asked, hearing the eagerness in his own voice.

“Now.” Lupin answered with a chuckle. “I’m taking you back to your Common Room, because it’s after curfew.”

Oh, Hal thought. Guess he  _ had _ been there for over an hour after all.

“But if you want to meet me in my office on Saturday.” Lupin carried on. “Instead of focusing on the spell that makes Boggarts go away… maybe I can teach you the one against Dementors.”

* *

*

“ Now, Harry.”

Lupin was standing in simple slacks and shirt, robe discarded, sleeves rolled up, in front of a large  oak blanket box that had previously been in the Gryffindor Common Room, and where Hermione had trapped the Boggart from the first-year girls’ dormitory earlier that week.  As Hal had been told, she’d interposed herself between him and the Dementor, which had turned her father telling her she was a failure and didn’t have two brain cells to link together before she’d cast a forceful  _ Riddikulus _ and backed it into the aforementioned trunk.

“Let me say this again.” Lupin continued. “The Patronus spell is very advanced magic. Many adults can only product an incorporeal one, and some none at all. So don’t expect too much.”

“But even a weak Patronus can provide some clarity when facing Dementors.” Hal recited dutifully.

T hey had been over that, in the first hour of their meeting, as they practised the spell. Lupin had demonstrated with his own silver mist, and Hal had produced nothing at all, but the teacher had insisted it was the feeling that was important. Hal had, maybe, felt something in the flow of his magic, when focusing on his happy memory – the breakfast they had in Diagon Alley the previous summer before Lockhart’s trial, when they had all been together, his aunt and Ley and his friends, all there in support, but also enjoying the moment and having fun.

“Absolutely.” Lupin smiled at him. “So that’s what we’ll be aiming for, and we’ll build up from there, alright?”

“I’m ready.” Hal said in way of an answer.

L upin gave him one determined nod, and opened the trunk.  At once, the room filled with the now familiar frost and dread.  _ Happy memory _ , Hal told himself.  _ Think h _ _ appy thoughts _ . He started thinking about  _ Hook _ ,  which didn’t help,  and forced himself to refocus on waffles with his friends rather than Robin Williams.

It took him too long, and before he knew it, he was on his knees with the screams of his dying mother filling his ears.  He still tried, but even if his lips vaguely formed the word  _ Expecto _ , no sound came out.

Then it was gone, as suddenly as it had come, and Lupin was pressing chocolate into his hand.

“I’ll be fat before I can  pull this  off .” Hal muttered even as he nibbled on the sweet treat.

“It was only your first attempt.” Lupin said kindly.

“ I just can’t manage to ignore  the  way it makes me feel.”

“It’s not about ignoring it.” Lupin advised. “On the contrary, I think you need to embrace it – while reminding yourself that this isn’t it, that there are things worth living, worth fighting for. Like the happy memory you’ve chosen to concentrate on. That memory is fuel for the spell, but the key to casting a proper Patronus  comes  from a state of mind, not just one memory.” 

“ I think I understand.” Hal asserted. “Let’s try again.”

They  worked on it  for nearly two hours; Hal had hit the floor so many times his knees and elbows were sore,  probably black and blue, and he’d had more chocolate than a dozen Easters and Christmases  rolled into one , but he was feeling stronger at each attempt ( emotionally, at least,  if one ignored he was  physically  increasingly tired) and there was a definite silver haze coming from his wand when he cast  _ Expecto Patronum _ now.

“ This is really good, Harry.” Lupin told him proudly.

Hal couldn’t help but smile in return, catching his breath, and he would have been ready to go again,  a slightly manic energy racing through him  in spite of the mounting exhaustion , had the professor not shaken his head.

“Let’s call it a day.” He advised. “ You need to get some food.”

“I’ve been eating chocolate for hours.” Hal pointed out.

“Real food.” Lupin chuckled. “Come on. Let’s head down to lunch.”

As they made their way out of his office and through the Defence classroom, Lupin placed a hand on Hal’s shoulder.

“Your parents really would have been proud of you, Harry.”


	9. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter is just about feelings.

As Valentine’s Day  fell on a Saturday , and a great number of students complained it wasn’t a Hogsmead weekend, a group of sixth years got permission to organise an inter-House party in the Great Hall. It had been decorated in lots of pink, red, roses and hearts, with a dance floor, a few big areas to sit and a lot of “date-sized” bistro-style tables with lacy tablecloths, candles and flowers. On the edges of the room, there were small cosy alcoves for couples to sit (without curtains or anything like that, it wasn’t that kind of party) and wider cushion pits for bigger groups.

Menus were floating around, and you only had to point at an item with your wand for food (a majority of which were chocolate-based deserts) to appear in front of you. The drinks, naturally, became spiked within about  seventeen minutes of the party starting, and while the teachers chaperoning the event Vanished a few of the stronger punches, they quickly gave up as long as everyone was having a good time and nobody was getting unreasonably pissed or started behaving inappropriately.  Draco was sure he even saw McGonagall help herself to what was most definitely Firewhisky  having only undergone a feeble attempt at smuggling and rather poorly disguised by means of a lemonade label stuck over the bottle . 

Somewhere along the course of the evening, when most people had danced it out, were full of chocolate and warm with more or less alcohol, and it started looking like a good idea to sit down,  a large group of them claimed a cushion pit. Always the life of the party,  F red and George c a me up with a game to foretell one’s true love,  when they would get together and their  joint  future  would unfold. Several  people looked a little alarmed at first, at potentially having some hidden feelings revealed, until it became clear that the predictions were so  shockingly inaccurate  it was very much harmless, and simply hilarious. 

Fred was particularly pleased with his reading, which was that he would come back to Hogwarts ten years after graduating to marry McGonagall, become the Headmaster and have no children but  start breeding horses . 

Lee Jordan was predicted to have a torrid  long-term  affair and two kids with Snape’s daughter (they all very much regretted they couldn’t play the spell on him to find out where this non-existent daughter would have been coming from) though he’d end up marrying Luna Lovegood. 

“No offence.” Lee wheezed at Luna when he managed to catch his breath from laughing. “But I don’t think this will happen.”

“I think I would be a nice stepmother.” Luna simply mused, sending everyone back into fits of hilarity.

When Ginny’s prediction was that she would have a son with a Muggle called David, then leave him to join a community of women living in the woods to raise their children without men at all, she seemed to actually consider it wouldn’t be a terrible option. Ron tried to tell her she was mental, but he soon got distracted by his own unlikely future, that he’d become a very successful businessman, but also such a workaholic that he’d be a serial monogamist his entire life without ever settling  down .

“ We really should send all of these to mom.” George laughed,  wiping hysterical tears off his face .

His own future was meant to be eloping to Asia at nineteen years old with a married woman and adopting four Vietnamese orphans.

Draco’s turn came,  and it was surprisingly tame compared to the others – he’d meet Ginny again when they were in their twenties as they both became lawyers, they’d get married after four years of dating and have two children, a boy and a girl.

“That’s actually not that unrealistic.” Fred commented.

“How is that not unrealistic?” Ginny protested. “It contradicts my prediction!”

“Oh, because yours was so likely to happen?” Ron laughed.

Draco personally thought it was ludicrous, and as the twins insisted it was so far the most likely scenario to happen out of all of the ones they’ve been given, he dissolved into helpless laughter.

“ I’m telling you.” Fred insisted, completely failing in his attempt at saying it seriously. “Future brother-in-law right there.”

“But I’m gay.” Draco blurted out between two giggles.

By that point, he was somewhere between tipsy and properly drunk, giddy on laughter as well,  and it just slipped out . It didn’t stop his blood from freezing as he realised what he’d said, but Fred did not even blink as he  responded.

“Not mutually exclusive.”

And Draco couldn’t help it, instead of panicking like he probably would have done spontaneously in any other circumstances, he just laughed uncontrollably, amazed that nobody seemed to care about what he’d revealed – though he did catch a look from Pan. It helped that they were all in various stages of drunkenness and that the twins carried on with their crackpot predictions without a beat. Everyone was soon distracted by how Neville would apparently end up in a relationship with two Veelas. 

Draco was pretty sure Pan would want to have a conversation with him the next day, but in the meantime, nobody said anything in the next couple of hours they were there, nobody even seemed surprised – or maybe they were just too busy having fun to really process the information.  A fter they had all been chased from the Hall by the teachers at their imposed curfew time of eleven (though by the time they managed to get everyone out and back to their respective dorms, it was nearly midnight), Draco had stopped looking at his friends’ faces for signs of what they were thinking.

It almost surprised him when Anthony brought it up, just as they were getting into bed.

“So.” His friend grinned. “You’re gay?”

Draco froze again, on instinct, but he relaxed minutely when he saw nothing but amusement, understanding and curiosity on the other boy’s features.

“I guess.” He mumbled.

Anthony chuckled. “You guess?”

“Alright.” Draco sighed, rolling his eyes. “I’m pretty certain.”

“You know it’s okay, right?” Anthony said, a little more serious. When Draco just shrugged, he insisted. “It really is, mate.  None of us are going to think any less of you, and we’re who matter, aren’t we?”

“Of course you are.” Draco nodded.

And his mother, he thought. He did not really want to think about how she would react. He knew she loved him, and probably still would. But he had a feeling she also would be disappointed, worried maybe, and sad. And he had no intention of telling her, not in the near future at least.

“ I don’t think anyone will bring it up, if you don’t want to talk about it.” Anthony added. “But you have to know it’s completely fine if you do want to talk about it.”

“Thanks.” Draco finally looked up to meet his eyes, and gave him a faint smile. Emboldened, or maybe just wanting to shift the attention from him, he asked: “What about you?”

Anthony took a moment to think.

“I don’t know, actually.” He said eventually. “Like I said, I don’t want to date before fourth year, I don’t know why but I always had that in my mind, so I’ve not really thought about it. I think I’d want to try different things, and see what feels right.”

“Sounds good.” Draco said honestly.

It sounded so free, of restrictions, of guilt, of worry. Draco wished he could see things that way. Wished he didn’t have to wonder if he’d have to do the ‘right thing’ and hide who he was, to fit within the Pureblood expectations he’d been raised with, or if the world had moved on enough from that.

“Have you always known?” Anthony asked him.

“I think so.” Draco admitted. “Pretty early, anyway. I think I already knew, part of me at least, when my father was still alive.”

Anthony had a wince at that. “I can’t imagine it would have gone down well with him.” He said wryly.

“No.” Draco had to huff a laugh. “Not really.”

“ And your mom?” His friend probed.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know.” He said with finality. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Sure.” Anthony said softly after a moment.

* *

*

Hal wasn’t sure if he should speak to Draco. Pretending nothing had been disclosed seemed wrong, like he didn’t care, which was far from the truth – but at the same time, he couldn’t just casually start mentioning his sexuality and say… what? That he was cool with it, and that he was wondering if he was the same? He didn’t want to make it about himself.

In the end, the opportunity presented itself on that month’s Hogsmead weekend, as Hal discovered the wizard version of Truth or Dare. The principle of the game was the exact same as its Muggle counterpart, only in this one, mild compulsion and honesty charms were used to make it more binding. They were harmless spells, and fairly easy to resist if one put their mind to it, but if you let yourself be carried away by the atmosphere (and more often than not, the Butterbeer, as was the case for them when they decided to play as they sat around their booth in the Three Broomstick) you would find yourself truthing and daring with a lot less inhibition than in a usual state.

H al did not actually reveal anything too embarrassing or do anything outrageous during the game itself, but as it got really stuffy inside the pub and the last round turned into a duel of sorts between Anthony and Pan about who could get the other to do the best dare, he came out for some fresh air with Draco, and they didn’t realise they were still bound by the spells (as they hadn’t officially stopped playing) until they started talking.  More specifically, until Hal saw Draco follow a group of Hufflepuffs across the street with his gaze, and blurted out like he had no filter (which in this moment, he supposed he hadn’t).

“Diggory,  uh ?” He  pinpointed . “He’s good looking.”

Draco turned to him with slightly wide eyes. “You think so?”

“Like you weren’t looking.” Hal chuckled.

“Oh, I was looking.” Draco admitted. “He’s hot. And fit.”

He then looked utterly appalled at what had just come out of his mouth.

“I think that honesty charm is still active.” He said blankly.

“Hey, it’s fine.” Hal offered. “I was looking too.”

He flushed, also realising that was a little more than he’d wanted to reveal. Draco gave him a curious  glance , and Hal figured, in for a penny…

“I’m… I’m not uninterested.” He fumbled. “By boys. That thing I told you about…”

“With that guy Nils.” Draco recalled.

“Yeah. Well.” Hal shifted from one foot to the other. “I didn’t hate it.”

“ I’d gathered as much, the way you were talking about it.” Draco confessed.

“Thing is… I didn’t hate it when his sister kissed me, either.” Hal added. 

He felt the need to specify how much further it had gone with Nils, but he bit his lip and resisted the pull of the honesty spell.

“Oh. Right.” Draco blinked at him.

“So I’m not… sure.” Hal finished lamely.  _ Don’t make it all about you _ , he reminded himself. “Like you.”

“Being sure isn’t necessarily better.” Draco pursed his lips.

H al shrugged. “Either way. It’s cool.”

Draco snorted. “Thanks for the endorsement.”

* *

*

On balance, Draco was glad he’d had that chat with Hal – though it had been a very, very close call.  _ He’s hot _ ,  he replayed himself saying  about Diggory .  _ And fit _ . 

_ T hough not as much as you _ .

It had been on the tip of his tongue, so terrifyingly near to being uttered. He’d realised what he was saying, what he was about to say, just in time to fight off the compulsion for honesty. Hal hadn’t seemed to notice anything beyond the dreadful awkwardness of that whole conversation, thank Merlin.

“I think you should tell him.” Pan assessed.

Draco sighed, and wondered why he’d told him everything. He  should have known that was what he was going to say,  and he very much knew that was not what he wanted to hear .

“And I’m not going to.” Draco repeated. “So drop it.”

“Why not?” Pan insisted.

“Because… because!” Draco said eloquently. “We’re friends. We’re friends in a large group of friends. He doesn’t feel the same way, and it will be incredibly uncomfortable and ruin everything. No.”

“How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?”

“ Pan.” Draco sighed. “We’ve  _ just _ had a conversation about whether he likes girls or boys, and he’s clearly not reached a conclusion. He most definitely has not been thinking of me that way.”

“You won’t know if you don’t-”

“Stop!” He almost shouted. “I said I won’t, alright? Why are you pushing this?”

“ Because you’re my friend first, not  Hal, not  the rest of them, and I want you to be happy.”

Draco  scoffed , half to avoid showing that he was  actually  touched by Pan’s words.  His misplaced insistence notwithstanding, he was trying to look out for Draco.

“ I’m not unhappy. And  I’m thirteen.” He pointed out. “My lifelong happiness does not depend on my crush on Hal.”

Pan gave him a look. “Doesn’t it?”  He asked pointedly. “ Also.” He added before Draco could protest again. “It’s more than a crush. You already confessed to that.  _ Last year _ .” He reminded him. “And here your are twisting yourself into knots because he turns out he doesn’t hate the idea of kissing boys. Doesn’t sound like you’re getting better on that front.”

“I am not telling Hal I’m in love with him.” Draco shook his head. “Not now, not in the foreseeable future. Please leave it.” He made a last bid when Pan opened his mouth again, trying to convey in one look that this was final.

He must have succeeded at least to an extent, as his friend sighed.

“Fine.” He sighed. “Keep it to yourself.”

After a moment of silence, Pan spoke again.

“You should get a boyfriend.” He mused.

Draco snorted. “That’s quite the change of tune.” He noted.

It didn’t stop him from playing along, and they spent the next hour discussing possible candidates. None of them were realistic, and Draco was certainly not going to approach and ask out any of them – or anyone at all – but it did make him feel better to laugh about it.

* *

*

“ Ley has a girlfriend?” Hal repeated, gobsmacked, on the phone to his aunt.

“ Well.” Petunia laughed. “It might be a bit of an overstatement. They’ve been to the cinema once, and for a waffle another time.”

“How did that happen?” Hal asked.

“She approached him, apparently.” His aunt replied. “On Valentine’s day, she gave him a card. They talked, he invited her to the cinema, then they seemed to both decide it had been a date.”

“ What’s her name?” 

“Elisa. She’s from Brazil.”

“Cool.” Hal commented. “Well, hope it goes well.”

“How are you doing?” His aunt then asked.

She sounded too casual for it to be an innocent question, especially as they’d already been talking for a little while and Hal had told her how things were going at school and generally. He knew she was probably thinking back to when he’d been so upset because of Marge, and still raw from what had happened with Nils, and he’d  blurted out that he might like boys. He had felt her body tense, then, so while she had never mentioned it since, he knew she’d heard him.

“I don’t have a girlfriend, if that’s what you’re asking.” He forced himself to reply lightly.

“ No.” She laughed, he thought a little nervously. “There’s no rush for that.”

He wondered if he should broach the subject, and ask her how she’d feel if he had a boyfriend instead, but he didn’t really want to do that on the phone. And he thought he probably needed a little more time to think about it himself, to really understand what he felt like, what he wanted. Talking to Draco hadn’t really helped, if he was honest, it probably had made him even less sure than he’d been before.

“How’s your godfather?” She changed the subject, and he felt relief.

“Good.” Hal answered. “I think I told you he’s got good news a few weeks ago, they’ve established he wasn’t guilty of… well, the whole thing. They’re moving on to actually prosecuting Pettigrew, the other guy, so that will still take a while, but at least he’s officially cleared. He’s found a flat in London, temporarily. His lawyer is still working on getting him all his assess back plus possibly some compensation.”

“ These things take time.” Petunia commented.

“Yeah.” Hal sighed. “But it’s going well, he’s getting there. Actually…” He hesitated.

“Tell me.” His aunt encouraged him.

“I think he’d like to meet you.”  Hal said. “You and Ley. I was thinking maybe, when I’m back for the Easter holidays, he could visit?”

“That’d be lovely.” Petunia answered. “I’ll be happy to meet him to.”

She’d want to assess him, Hal thought with a smile. If he was going to be in her nephew’s life, she’d want to make sure he was good for him, safe to be around. She was rather protective that way.

“I’ll see what he thinks.” He simply said. “I should see him next month, he said he’d come to Hogsmead when we’re next allowed to go.”

He had the Quidditch game against Hufflepuff to look forward to in the meantime, for which Oliver was  currently making them practice till they dropped.  Hal got an earful at every single session about ‘their new Seeker Diggory, who  meant business ’. As if Hal had played on his own all his previous games, and this was the first time he’d be facing another Seeker. The match  would be the weekend before Hogsmead, and Sirius had promised he’d be coming to see him play as well, but they both knew that wouldn’t leave them a lot of opportunities to talk, so a Hogsmead visit would better allow them to catch up afterwards.

H al wondered then, due to the succession of thoughts, how Sirius would feel if he turned out to be gay. Would he mind? He’d told Hal stories of his Hogwarts years that suggested he and James had both been quite popular with girls and had quite enjoyed the attention. He had implied Hal rather took after his father in terms of physical appeal, so maybe he’d find that weird.  Hal wasn’t sure he felt comfortable talking about these things with the man yet, anyway.

He promised his aunt to let her know about Easter anyway,  and  ‘ don’t let that be the next time you call’, pledged to ring again soon too.

“ Are you going to give Ley the talk?” He asked before hanging up.

He tried not to laugh at the thought, because as funny as it was to imagine Ley stuck in the front room with his mother giving him  _ the talk _ , if Petunia did do that, then it would only be a matter of time before she had the same talk with Hal – with or without any required variations. The idea of her looking up safe sex between two boys made a shiver crawl up his spine, and suddenly he regretted even asking the question.

“ I don’t think there’s any rush for that.” His aunt replied, and Hal wondered if she’d  just  had the same idea and the same shiver. “But I’ll certainly be keeping an eye on them.”

“ Well, good luck with that.” Hal forced out a laugh. “Speak soon.”

“Speak soon, darling. I love you.”

“Love you too, Auntie.”

“Aww.” A voice sounded behind him as he hung up. “Isn’t that sweet.”

Hal turned around, coming face to face with two older Hufflepuff boys – seventh year, he’d say, though he wouldn’t have put money on it. He certainly did not know their names.

“Can I help you?” He asked coldly.

He  wasn’t as naive, or maybe not as prejudiced as others, as to think that a Hufflepuff could not display bullying tendencies. As far as he could tell, students of any House were just as likely as the next to give as good as they got.

“Cedric will destroy you.” One of the boy said, jerking his chin forward challengingly.

Hal briefly wondered who in the world was Cedric and what he’d ever done to the lad to warrant destruction, until he remembered that was Diggory’s first name.

“ He might catch the Snitch before me.” Hal conceded, keeping his tone neutral. “I don’t think it’ll destroy me, though. It being a game and all.”

“Look, there-” The other bloke started.

“Look, there.” Hal parroted, interrupting. He wasn’t cowed, they didn’t look like they would resort to violence beyond their words, and he had no intention of playing along. “I appreciate your commitment to the game, but I don’t have time for this. If Cedric feels threatened by me, then he should keep training. And if that was just you, then shouldn’t you have a bit more faith in your team? Right? Okay, bye.”

He pushed past them, leaving them too surprised to retaliate – proving Hal right: bullying him, if whatever this had been could qualify as such, had been a spur of the moment thing, and not really something they were used to doing.

All the better, Hal thought. He didn’t  particularly want to have to punch someone again.


	10. March

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo after two mini-chapters, this one is a whooping 10k. It got away from me when a wild plot bunny appeared.
> 
> Oops.
> 
> Also, this comes up in this chapter and I made a note about it in Book 1 already but just as a reminder, I know in cannon James’ parents are still around to see him get married, but I’ve got my own headcannon timeline that they died in his seventh year which partly accounted for his personality change, and made Lily see there was more to him than an obnoxious brat.
> 
> WARNING death of a child in this chapter (OC, off-screen, non violent).

The last couple of weeks of February and the first two weeks of March had been the most intense Hal had ever known in terms of Quidditch practice. Oliver clearly operated under the assumption, that the Hufflepuff team under the new Captainship of Cedric Diggory was a force to be reckoned with. The rest of them had tried to get him to chill, to which he usually replied coldly ‘ _May I remind you that we lost to them last year?’_ , usually with a glance towards Hal, which made him feel absolutely great about himself.

Fred and George had a different theory, or at least an additional one, which was that Oliver did not feel _threatened_ by Diggory as a proficient Captain and Quidditch player, as much as _flustered_ by the prospect of his physical proximity. Whether that was true of Ollie or not, it certainly didn’t help that Katie, Angelina and Alicia had all but swooned when they’d cross pass one day in and out of the changing rooms, when the Hufflepuff and Gryffindor team practice had followed one another.

Hal had been less obvious about it, but he couldn’t say the sight of Diggory in a Quidditch uniform hadn’t been a pleasant one. He hadn't just been saying it to Draco in Hogsmead to make him feel better – he had been looking.  He wasn’t the only one; t he Hufflepuff team were clearly galvanised by their new  S eeker  and Captain,  but the screams from the stands where groups of girls cheered on for Diggory, from what Hal had overheard down the halls in the past week, had more to do with his hair and muscles than with his prowess as a Quidditch player. Not that Hal could disagree. He had great hair. But that wasn't the po i nt.

In all fairness, Hal could tell the guy hadn’t made the team solely because it would attract fans either. Word was that he’d made his team work hard, and when it was finally match day and Hal found himself face to face with him on the field, he could tell Diggory was not just a pretty face. He was clearly on top of his game, sharp, steady on his broom, scanning the field with clear competence. And that, damn him, was more attractive to Hal than his biceps and the perfect fall of his chestnut locks over his forehead.

But instead of distracting him, Hal found it motivated him. He would not been shown up by Prince Charming there. Diggory might be a good Seeker (and even beyond Hal's own first impression on the pitch as they flew up and met in the air to shake hands before the whistle, he'd shown as much in Hufflepuff's first game, catching the Snitch after  thirty-five minutes of play and from right under  Draco’s nose, much to the latter’s chagrin ) but so was Hal. And he was determined to show him. Them. All of them. Nothing to do with wanting to be noticed by Diggory. At all.

Hal forced himself to keep his eyes off the bloke, and out for the Snitch. He effectively, he thought, stayed in the way of the other Seeker, flying around not just to scan the field but also to distract him – he might be ‘a natural’, as Fred and George called him, but that didn't mean he hadn't been reading up on some playing techniques too.

A s  the game went on, Hal relaxed a bit. As it  turned out, the Hufflepuff team had been fully counting on Diggory's talent, and  beyond the extra motivation,  didn't have all that much to offer otherwise –  at least not evidently during this game . As the Gryffindor players flew all over them, the cheers from the stands gradually stopped being so loud and enthusiastic. And as Hal kept marking Diggory, and the Snitch had yet to make an appearance, not much was happening on their end either.

It was almost anticlimactic when they did spot the Snitch, pretty much at the same time. Gryffindor was up 240- 10 , meaning Diggory could save face, but not win his team the game. He glanced at Hal, almost as if he was asking  _Should we even bother?_ , before he of course started  d iving for it – a split second after Hal, whose Nimbus 2000 wasn't the best broom on the market anymore, but still had more speed than whatever Diggory was flying.

It was a textbook dive for  both of them , which Hal's broom’ s superior speed prevented from even getting interesting, and he caught the Snitch almost leisurely, the little golden ball making no bid for freedom at the last moment  (as Hal had kind of been hoping it would, looking for a bit of a thrill) like it was as fed up with this tedious game as the rest of them. There was a half-hearted cheer, and even Lee commented on Gryffindor’s win sounding a bit like he was glad it was over.

Hal remembered watching a game of football with Ley once that was a bit like that. _Well, nothing happened_ , Ley had stated after an hour and a half of uninteresting play, and a score that hadn’t budged from nil-nil. In spite of the goals scored here, and the points from the Snitch, Hal felt a bit like that. He was almost embarrassed that Sirius had come all the way for this. He spotted him waving from the stands, where he'd been sitting with the teachers and another couple of visitors (parents were always unofficially invited to come and see their offspring's games, even if not many did come) and made his way towards him.

Sirius, Hal was pleased to see, looked great. He had put on a bit of weight since Hal had last seen him (and certainly since he'd first met him), he was clean-shaven, his hair was cut just right above his shoulders and had a good shine to it. He finally looked healthy, and as young as his actual 35 years. Hal even spotted a few students, mostly girls, do a double take, and while he couldn’t look at his godfather with the same eyes he was looking at, say, Diggory, he could see that he was in fact rather a handsome man.

“Sorry.” He told him when they reached each other. “That was a really boring game.”

“Nothing to do with you.” Sirius grinned, ruffling his hair. “And I could still see you fly. That was good, Hal.”

Hal shrugged. “It wasn't very exciting.”

“Can't be doing a Wronski feint in every game.” Sirius teased.

“Ah.” Hal chuckled, a little embarrassed and a little pleased. “You've heard about that?”

“Heard that's how you made the team.” He sounded proud, and Hal regretted even more not having been able to show him a bit more of what he was indeed capable of.

“Fred and George Weasley are how I made the team.” He replied.

“I feel like I should have a chat with these lads.” Sirius mused.

“Merlin protect us.” Hal deadpanned.

Sirius laughed, and clasped Hal on the shoulder.

“Anyway.” He insisted. “You _are_ a good flyer. Doesn't take an exciting game to see that. James would have loved it.” He swallowed, his throat clearly tight and a sheen over his eyes. “He'd have loved teaching you. And flying with you. Merlin, you two would probably have been out every weekend. Lily would have gone mental.”

Hal forced himself to ignore the tightness in his own throat, and the stinging in his own eyes.

“He was on the team, right?” He asked.

“Chaser.” Sirius confirmed. “I tried out for Keeper in fourth year, but I actually wasn't very good.” He added with a chuckle.

“Harry!” Oliver called from near the entrance to the changing rooms. “Butterbeer awaits!”

He was finally in a good mood, it appeared. This win did give them a lead that meant it would take a real disaster in the Ravenclaw game for them to lose the cup.

“ He’s right.” Sirius smiled. “You’ve got celebrations to attend,  and I promised M- Remus a pint myself .  I’ll see you next week, yeah?”

“Of course.” Hal nodded energetically.

L ooking away from Sirius, he in fact noticed that Lupin had been waiting by the stands, patiently waiting for them to finish talking, with a small and somewhat wistful smile on his face. 

“ He’s been giving me private lessons.” Hal added, when Sirius followed his gaze and Hal gave his professor a little wave. “To learn the Patronus charm.”

“He mentioned that, yeah.” Sirius acknowledged. “He also said it’s going really well.”

“I don’t know about that.” Hal grumbled. He still hadn’t managed to produce anything corporeal.

“I’d tell you about how advanced this charm is, but I’m sure Remus had explained that to you already. At length. With diagrams.”

Hal snorted, feeling some history there – he’d gotten the impression, from Sirius’ Hogwarts tale, that Remus had been a bit like the Hermione of their group.

“He didn’t quite go as far as diagrams.” He moderated. “But yeah, I know, it’s difficult magic, and I should be glad I can even conjure anything, blah, blah.”

“But you want to master it, perfectly, and yesterday.” Sirius grinned. “James was always impatient like that.” He put a hand on Hal’s shoulder. “And he always got there. You’ve got that in you.  _ And _ , you’ve got some of Lily in you, who was always just  _ good _ at  _ everything _ . Seriously, it was annoying.” He looked anything but annoyed as he winked at Hal. “So you’ll get there, don’t you worry.”

Hal rolled his eyes, but he let Sirius mess up his hair again and give him a warm hug.

“ Till next week,  fawn .”

* *

*

“ Things are going very well, Mister Parkinson.” Snape told Pan, in his usual unwavering voice, like he didn’t care either way.

The Potions Master had just finished examining him – with spell-casting, to Pan’s relief it had never involved more invasive or intimate checks – following another course of the Transition potions.

“ Does it sometimes not?” Pan wondered. “I thought you were pretty confident in the regimen.”

He knew Snape had tailored it to his specific needs to ensure the best possible efficacy.

“Oh, I am.” The man replied  coolly. “But these potions are closely related to the taker’s own magic, in terms of effectiveness.” He explained. “If you’d had any doubts about this process, it wouldn’t have worked as well.”

“I told you I didn’t have any doubts.” Pan said defensively.

“Those can be subconscious, Mister Parkinson.” Snape replied, undeterred. “But I am glad to see you are, in fact, as sure as you claim. Magic does not lie.”

H e turned around to make some notes on a piece of parchment, and Pan assumed that meant he was dismissed, but Snape looked up as he made a motion to take his leave.

“Before you go.” His Head of House held him back. “I wanted to check if you’d had any other issues, not strictly related to the potions’ effect which we have discussed.”

“My parents have stopped sending Howlers, if that’s what you mean.” Pan answered. “I think they’ve given up on me.”

“Do you have options during the summer?” Snape probed.

“Yeah, same as Christmas.” Pan nodded. “Staying with Blaise is always a bit dodgy, though he’s offered, but otherwise Mrs Malfoy and Mr and Mrs Goldstein have said I’m welcome to stay with them.”

He purposefully mentioned Draco’s and Anthony’s parents rather than his friends themselves, thinking that would probably reassure Snape more than arrangements between children.

“Good.” Snape assessed. “And your housemates? Other than Mister Zabini.”

“What about them?” Pan deferred cautiously.

“Anyone giving you trouble?” Snape asked more explicitly.

“Oh, no, not really.” Pan shrugged. “ Daphne isn’t talking to me anymore, but the boys have been okay in the dorm. I was never really friends with Millie, so whatever. And most of the other years have been either nice about it or have just said nothing.”

“Most?” Snape picked up.

“A few snide comments here and there, nothing serious.” Pan waved a dismissive hand.

He wasn’t downplaying for the sake of his teacher; there had been some whispers and some looks, especially at the start, but on the whole, either out of House solidarity or out of genuine disinterest, Pan had been surprised to see an overwhelming majority of his housemates just leave him alone.

“I can have a word, if-”

“Please don’t.” Pan interrupted him. “Sir.” He added quickly. “Thank you, but it’s all good. I don’t want it to look like I came crying to you.”

“Fair enough.” Snape admitted. “As long as you’ll come to me if anything happens that could get more out of hands?”

“Will do.” Pan assured. “ And before you ask, I’ve not had issues with other Houses either.”

“No, I don’t suppose you have.” Snape mused. “I suppose your friendship with a number of Gryffindors and Ravenclaws has helped with that.”

“I have indeed been very strategic in selecting my friends .”  Pan half-joked. “I really don’t see what my father has to complain about.”

There was the smallest twitch on Snape’s lips that probably was the closest thing Pan would see to a smile.  The professor did dismiss him after that, repeating instructions for the continued treatment and setting an appointment for a few weeks later for their next  check-up.

A nthony was waiting outside the office when Pan came out.

“Do you have nothing better to do?” Pan challenged, schooling his features to make sure he didn’t look as pleased as he felt.

“I could be sitting with the others at the library.” Anthony pretended to consider it. “But all Draco and Hermione can talk about is exams three months from now, all Ron and Hal can talk about is the Quidditch World Cup five months from now, and my amusement at watching Neville get stressed out equally by both events only goes so far.”

P an snorted, and followed after Anthony as he started walking out of the dungeons.

“What’s Blaise up to?” He asked.

“No idea, I tend not to ask.” Anthony replied. “ But the rumour mill says his new relationship keeps him busy.”

“If that’s the rumour that he’s Bridget Kildare’s new boyfriend, she’s still dating Cassius Warrington.”

“Yes.” Anthony smirked. “Apparently the two are not mutually exclusive to Blaise. Or Cassius and Bridget.”

Pan opened his mouth, then closed it, and shook his head. “Actually, I’d rather not comment on that.”

Anthony laughed, mirroring Pan’s head-shake, then changed the subject.

“Everything go alright with Snape?”

“Yeah, you know him.” Pan smiled. “He’ll pretend he’s not interested and he’s only helped me because Draco asked him or something. But he cares in his own cold way.”

“Good, considering he’s the one brewing your potions.”  Anthony noted.

P an rolled his eyes. “It’s not like he was going to poison me.”

“ Hmm, I don’t know.” Anthony carried on. “I’m sure he’d have ways of making it undetectable.”

“Stop being ridiculous.” Pan shoved him with a fond, if exasperated, smile.

* *

*

H al was in a fantastic mood when he trotted up to Hogsmead to meet Sirius. He’d had his Patronus lesson with Lupin the evening before, and while a definite shape had yet to manifest, he had produced a rather solid-looking shield which, the professor had said, would fend off any Dementor.  He told Sirius as much as soon as they’d exchanged hellos, and the man actually  _ whooped! _ cheerfully and declared that deserved ice-cream. It was a cold, rainy day, but Hal didn’t argue.

H oneydukes, Hal discovered, had an ice-cream section with all the flavours of the sweets they sold in other forms, with a couple of tiny tables for people to sit. They were usually empty on Hogsmead weekends, the shop being so busy with Hogwarts students coming in and out that it wasn’t a very nice place to sit and relax compared to the pubs and cafés around the village. But if you didn’t mind the noise and being jostled by over-enthusiastic kids pushing their way through between the chocolate and biscuit sections every now and again, it was the perfect spot to enjoy the frozen treats if the weather was as uninviting as it was today.

In a conspiratorial tone, keeping his voice low so as not to be overheard by the staff, Sirius told Hal of one of the many times the Marauders had used the secret passageways leading to the shop’s cellar, a specific occasion in which Peter had knocked over an entire crate of  Pixie Dust (colourful powdered sugar in different flavours) that they had to spend ages clearing off the floor or their sticky footsteps would have led the way straight to the concealed entrance.

“It fell right on top of James too.” Sirius recalled with one of his barks of a laugh. “It was in his ears, everywhere. He was washing the stuff off his hair for weeks.”

“ Did you ever steal from here?” Hal asked suddenly, just as it occurred to him.

It would have been incredibly easy, and while he didn’t condone stealing in any circumstances, and didn’t think he’d ever find himself in a situation where he had the urge to do it, he wasn’t sure if four overexcited teenagers sneaking around in the night in the basement of the best sweets shop in the vicinity could really be expected not to.

“No.” Sirius shook his head, looking dead serious, so Hal knew he wasn’t lying. “We did  _ buy _ a few things, on occasion,  so to speak. If we took something  we  would  always  leave  money  for it .” He chuckled, and added. “Though I think we all did that for different reasons.”

“How so?” Hal smiled, intrigued.

“Remus would have had our heads, for one. He liked his rules, our Remus.  Didn’t see the point in breaking same for the sake of sweets – not even for chocolate. Peter was too scared of hypothetical repercussions. James was raised too well, and he had enough money to support the principle s his parents had given him. I was just raised… well, when you’re from a Noble House like mine, it’s so terribly uncouth to not be able to afford something you want. Purebloods will happily pay  _ more _ than something is worth just to show that they have too much money to even care.”

“ You ran away from home, though.” Hal remembered. “Weren’t you, like, homeless and broke?”

Sirius laughed. “ Could have been, yeah, but actually my Uncle Alphard kept sending me money, before he died, and made me the beneficiary in his will when he did die. And  I was never homeless.” He  added with a  warm  smile . “Not with your dad as a friend. His parents took me in  when I left my family  and I never felt like I was overstaying my welcome. They were really good to me.”

Hal had a bit of a wistful sigh. “I wish I’d met them.”

“Me too, fawn.” Sirius’ smile turned pained and sad, though only for a second. “They would have absolutely adored you, you’d have been spoilt rotten, probably even worst than James was.”

“My dad was spoilt?” Hal picked up, as usually latching on every nugget of knowledge about his parents.

“An absolute brat.” Sirius deadpanned. “ Always expecting to be the centre of attention, like he’d been growing up. Your grandparents struggled to have children, you see. James was the world to them.”

“ How did my mom like him if he was a brat?” Hal asked.

“Oh, she didn’t.” Sirius chuckled. “Not for a few years, anyway. He grew on her. Like a fungus.”

Hal snorted, but Sirius continued more earnestly.

“He grew up, I suppose. And his parents died when we were in our last year, that really changed him too. Not, like, he was a completely new person, but he did… mature. Understandably.”

“ Must have been hard.” Hal said. “Losing his parents so young.”

Sirius had an odd look, and yeah, Hal supposed seventeen didn’t seem so young when he’d lost his own parents at one – but that also meant he didn’t remember them. In a way, he hadn’t lost as much as someone who’d spent their own childhood being raised and loved by the people that were then taken away from him. Hal thought he’d probably feel more pain if his aunt died now than he did when thinking about his own mother, though he probably wouldn’t admit that to anyone. It seemed ungrateful somehow, as if he had ‘replaced’ the woman who’d given h er life for him.

The moved on to lighter topics as they finished enjoying their ice-creams (Chocolate Frog flavour for Sirius and Fizzing Whizzbees for Hal), and by the time they headed out of the shop, it had actually stopped raining. They decided to walk around for a bit, talking about Quidditch, before Hal had to head back to school.

As they walked further out the village, Sirius became a little quieter; Hal had the feeling he was considering telling him something specific, something important, and maybe building up the courage to do so. He gave an almost nervous glance towards the Shrieking Shack as it came into view.  When there was a natural break in the conversation, Hal purposefully did not launch onto a new topic, waiting to see if his godfather was going to say something.

He didn’t get a chance to find out, as there was a shout behind them.

“Murderer!”

They both turned, and saw a short, furious-looking woman marching towards them.

“Sirius Black.” She spat angrily as she came nearer. “You are a murderer! You should be ashamed to show your face!”

“Actually-” Sirius started, but the lady continued to rant.

“Leave this poor child alone! Corrupter! Murderer!” She made a beckoning gesture with both hands, looking frantic. “Come here, pet, let me help you.”

Hal, realising she was talking to him, actually edged closer to Sirius. Instinctively, Sirius went to put a hand on his shoulder – and the woman went berserk.

“Don’t you dare TOUCH HIM, you disgusting scum! Murderer!” She screamed again as she launched herself at Sirius, fingers outstretched like she fully intended to claw his eyes out.

I t all went quite fast from there.  S tunned by the sudden attack,  all Sirius could do  to react  was push Hal out of the way and lift his other  arm up to protect his face.  He  got knocked over by the angry ball of rage that the madwoman had become, and Hal watched in horror as the moment they both fell to the ground, she grabbed a large stone and smashed it into his head.

He shouted, drew his wand though he couldn’t gather his thoughts quickly enough to know what to do with it, as she threw something at him before he had time to move. A powder of some kind, which filled his nose and eyes. He had time to cough, once, before he felt himself starting to fall. He didn’t hit the ground – the last thing he felt before he lost consciousness was the woman’s arms catching him.

* *

*

“ Hal was meant to meet us.” Draco reminded his friends as they started walking back to the castle, casting another anxious look behind him.

“I know, mate.” Ron said impatiently. “But if we don’t head back now, we’ll miss curfew.”

“He must already have gone back.” Hermione added more gently, repeating it for Draco’s sake.

He’d convinced the two of them to wait till the last moment, when the rest of the group had decided that Hal clearly was already back at the castle since it was getting so late, and they better get going.  Draco wasn’t convinced. Even if, as concluded by Anthony, Hal had finished his afternoon with Sirius so much sooner than anticipated, he would have tried to find them in the village.

“ But-” He tried to express that again.

“Draco.” Hermione interrupted him gently. “It’s not like he made an Unbreakable Vow of it. Let’s go find him, and see if anything happened that upset him, or something, alright?”

Draco hadn’t thought of that – he’d been too focused on being convinced that Hal couldn’t have possibly forgotten he’d said he’d meet them, or decided it wasn’t worth the wait, to consider that maybe he’d had a good reason to head straight back to Hogwarts ahead of time.  It still didn’t seem to him like the most likely  assumption ; Hal wasn’t particularly one to isolate when faced with strong feelings. On the contrary, he had a tendency to be a little more clingy when he felt insecure, even if it could take him some time to actually talk about the issue. But Draco supposed it was possible Hal had wanted the comfort of his dorm, his cat, maybe even call his family, rather that traipse through Hosgmead looking for his friends, if something distressing really had happened.

W hen they made it to the castle, it was only with only minutes to spare to get their names safely crossed out of Filch’s exacting list, and the suspicious caretaker escorted them and the few other stragglers who’d arrived with them to the Great Hall, where dinner was already started,  before he turned around with a grunt to go through his sheets of parchment to check his register again.  Draco sat with Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, where neither Hal nor Neville were present.

“They must be with Anthony.” Ron stated, already helping himself to the food.

Draco craned his neck to try and see any of his friends, but there were too many heads in the way, and he resigned himself to wait till the end of the meal. He was just hoping Hal wasn’t hiding away with whatever hurt he was feeling – Draco had several scenarios running through his head  now  of Sirius saying something awful to his godson.  His instinct was to go and check, but he wouldn’t be getting into the Gryffindor common room without the password, and he knew neither Ron nor Hermione would humour him again.

T here was a startled scream halfway through the meal, and when they turned around, they saw a Hufflepuff girl with her hands over her mouth, the first to have spotted Sirius Black himself making his way across the Hall. He looked haggard, had a great big gash on his forehead and half his face streaked with blood. He was glancing around  agitatedly , and Draco felt like a stone dropping to the pit of his stomach, because he knew exactly the only reason he would be behaving like this.

He was looking for Hal.

Professor Lupin had risen from the table and rushed to him, while McGonagall, following in his wake, was already trying to calm students down as well as get both men to move from the middle of the room to somewhere more private.

“Is Harry here?” Draco heard Sirius say, causing Lupin’s already worried face to crease into something deeper. “Is Hal- Tell me he’s here, tell me-”

“I’ve not seen him.” Lupin told him, and Sirius seemed to choke on his own breath. “ But I’m sure he’s around,  Sirius, you need to come and sit down, let’s get you-”

“She took him.” Sirius  blurted out frantically.

“ Headmaster!” A call rang out at the same time.

Filch, clearly oblivious to the current ongoing commotion, was coming through waving his clipboard in the air  like a man on a mission .

“Student missing!” He bellowed. “There is a student missing!”

Draco could only hear white noise for the next minute, but he saw the blood drain from Lupin’s face as he looked away from Filch and back at Sirius in horrified understanding.

Students were led back to their common rooms, with instructions sent out to the House-elves to deliver des s ert there, when it became clear that a student –  it  didn’t take long  for Hal’s name  to make it out of the anonymous announcement – hadn’t returned from Hogsmead and that there were looking at a possible abduction.  Draco had been ready to resist being taken back to Ravenclaw, at the risk of appearing hysterical, but he didn’t have to fight it out – Dumbledore asked them to stay behind.

They – Draco and Anthony and the three Gryffindors, Blaise and Pan hadn’t been required and hadn’t insisted to stay – sat together waiting for the room to clear, after which the adults joined them; their respective Heads had gone to shepherd the rest of their House, so it was only Dumbledore, who took a seat at the table across from them, and Lupin and Sirius standing by the side. The latter had cleaned his face but looked no less distressed for it.

“When did you last see Harry?” Dumbledore asked the children.

“Late morning.” Ron was the one to answer. “When we walked to Hogsmead, he was meeting Sirius.”

“We had ice-cream for lunch.” Sirius piped up, sounding wretched.

The DMLE had been called in the meantime, and two Aurors joined them after they’d been to examine the scene.  Sirius explained what happened, and it did seem the only logical conclusion that the woman had, for some reason, taken Hal away with her. The  Department had  found the bloody rock and traces of the scuffle to corroborate Sirius’ story,  but no magical signature other than Sirius’ and Hal’s.

“ You’re saying Hal was kidnapped by a Muggle?”  Neville asked them.

“No, Hogsmead is a strictly Wizarding village.” One of the Aurors answered. “It is possible the suspect avoided using her wand on purpose, but that would imply a degree of premeditation that does not match Mister Black’s account of the attack. Resorting to physical means is very rare for experienced wizards and witches. We think she might be a Squib.”

They had also found some powder residue of a Sleeping Draught – instant and highly potent in that formulation, and therefore dangerous and under tightly restricted use – which she must have used on Hal.

“ We’ll be checking with suppliers.” The other Auror informed. “But it’s more  probable it was either obtained illegally or she brewed and processed it herself.”

“Can a Squib brew magical potions?” Hermione enquired.

The Aurors ignored her, having already turned away to go over some details with Sirius and Dumbledore, but Lupin came closer and answered her in a slightly shaky voice, less visibly upset than the rest of them but clearly not unaffected by the events.

“A lot of potions involve little to no magic.” He said. “Only some of the more complex  compounds require the use of a wand, and even then in a lot of cases, you can use spells to strengthen your brew, but they are not compulsory.  It’s not uncommon, actually, for Squibs to find themselves a place in the Wizarding world by becoming Potioneers. ”

“ Might that help find that woman?” Draco asked hopefully.

Lupin had a little wince. “Only if she’s registered. ”

Draco, and probably the rest of them, filled in the blanks; it was either unlikely or incredibly stupid to go around abducting a child, abducting _Harry Potter_ of all children, if you could so easily be found.

“ We’ll get him back.” Lupin told them, his voice tight, obviously trying to sound more convinced than he was feeling, for their sake, though Draco could see he was at a loss. “The Aurors are very good at what they do.”

They all exchanged uncertain looks. Sure, they’d get him back. But when, and in what state? If there was an upside to the whole story,  it was the concern the woman had manifested for Hal before launching herself at Sirius, her urgency at getting him to step away from the man she viewed as a murderer.  It  made the Aurors think, in their professional opinion, that she was unlikely to have taken him with a purpose to  cause him  harm .

But she was clearly not entirely sane. And some people’s ideas of what caused harm and what didn’t… Needless to say, none of them was reassured that Hal was safe.

“His poor aunt.”  Anthony whispered, when they had finally been encouraged to make their way back to their dorms. “It’s  _ every year _ .”

Him and Draco had  huddled in the ir room,  both sitting on Draco’s bed unwilling to  attempt to  go to  sleep , as if they were more likely to receive some news if they stayed up.  They had no doubt  that  Neville, Hermione and Ron were probably doing the same  in their common room .  Madam Pomfrey had been asked to provide some Calming Draughts if they needed them,  and Draco knew the potion would probably help, even if he felt like nothing would be able to quench the roiling fear in his stomach.

“ My mother’s invited her over.” Draco said quietly. “With Ley. While they wait for news. They’ll be easier to reach at the Manor, and… well, I guess I wouldn’t want to be alone either.”

“Hey.” Anthony responded, his voice tight, shuffling closer to Draco to wrap an arm around him. “You’re not alone.”

“I can’t-” Draco choked. “I never told him-”

He broke into a sob, feeling like a complete idiot. Not for being scared, or for crying, because Hal was missing, he’d been taken by someone whose intentions towards him were Morgana knows what, and Draco had every right to freak out because he  _ loved him _ , he was in love with him, and he’d never told him, out of some stupid fear, some misplaced perseveration instinct, and Hal deserved to know, and now Draco could lose him, and he’d never know.

Anthony hugged him and held him tight.  _ I know _ , he hushed.  _ I know _ .

* *

*

W hen Hal came to, he found that he was,  disturbingly , in a bed. He jumped out of it as if the covers were on fire, and couldn’t help momentarily sagging in relief when he saw he still had all of his clothes on, only  missing his shoes. Those were actually nowhere to be seen as he looked around the room, but this was quickly downgraded to the least of his problems, because the room…

The room was horrifying. It was covered, from floor to ceiling, with pictures of him, articles about him, scribbles of his name surrounded by hearts, drawings of his face (not very good ones either), and items associated to him: a Gryffindor scarf, pairs of glasses on the shelves, Quidditch memorabilia, books, newspapers and magazines in which Hal was pretty sure he or his parents would be mentioned.

Turning back to the bed, he spotted several cushions bearing the Gryffindor arms and colours, as well as multiple stuffed toys (including a broom and, maybe more unnervingly, several snakes). On the bedside table was a tub of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion, a glass of water and a sandwich. Hal decided to stay clear of those.  Without much hope, he checked the entire room to see if he could find his wand, but it came as no surprise when he couldn’t.

There was a door, which Hal tried and found locked, and a window, equally locked and obscured by yet more pictures of himself, though Hal could tell by the absence of light coming through that night had fallen outside.  He tried to rip off some of the covering, but they must have been charmed with a permanent sticking spell, or stuck with magical glue of some kind, Hal didn’t know much about either option but he was sure there would be something in the magical world that ensured complete adhesion. 

O nly one thing left for it: he banged on the door and called. “Hey! Let me out!”

There was movement on the other side, some cooing noises, and then the sound of a key turning in the lock. Hal took a few cautious steps back, in case the woman (he assumed it’d be her) was going to throw something in his face again or decide to bash his head in with a rock.  When she poked her head in, however, she smiled warmly.

“Oh, precious boy, are you up?”

“I’d like to go.” Hal replied with a frown, unwilling to humour her in any way.

“You’re completely safe here.” She shook her head, as if that was meant to be reassuring. “Have you eaten? I can make something else if you don’t like this? What’s your favourite?”

“I don’t want to eat, and I’m not staying here.” Hal insisted, and he tried to make for the door, but she interposed herself.

“Ah, ah, now.” She said, still kindly, though there was something in her eyes Hal didn’t like the look of. “It’s a bad, bad world out there, Harry.”

Given the decoration in the room, it didn’t surprise Hal that she knew his name, but it still unsettled him to hear it.

“ What do you want?” He asked – his voice had a hint of despair perceptible to his own ears.

“I just don’t want anything happening to you. You’re completely safe here.” She repeated.

“I’m safe at school.” Hal argued.

“Where Sirius Black can sneak in? No, no, no.”

“He’s not dangerous.” Hal snapped. “He didn’t kill these people. He’s my godfather.”

She put a hand to her chest. “I know.” She said like it pained her. “You poor child.”

“I want to go home.” Hal let out, not sure if the raw honesty was going to work to sway her, or only appear weak. At this point, either way, his bravado was slipping.

“Home.” She repeated sadly. “My precious boy, you poor child.” She said again – Hal really wish she’d stop. “You should never have been raised by Muggles. Harry Potter, raised by Muggles. What is wrong with this world?”

Maybe people like you, Hal thought. Then, immediately after: fuck it. He wasn’t going to stand for this.

“I’m leaving.” He announced.

It might have been a strategic mistake, though he didn’t think he’d have had much of an element of surprise either way. She grabbed him as he tried to push past, obviously, surprisingly strong. Next thing he knew, she was making shushing sounds as she pressed a damp cloth over his nose and mouth, and he slipped into darkness again.

* *

*

It was morning when Hal woke up next – he could tell by the light, though everything was blurred. He reached out, trying to find his glasses on the beside table, but only succeeded in knocking over the water that was still there. Feeling around for them, including in the bed and on the floor, he came up empty. The bitch had taken them. Brilliant.

He also realised he felt incredibly sluggish, his head spinning as he moved. Whatever she had dosed him with the night before, it hadn’t left his system yet – or she’d drugged him again during the night. At least he was still dressed in his own clothes, so whatever her deal was, she wasn’t interested in anything like _that_. Hal would take what he could get.

It seemed to him the woman had some kind of weird  idolisation going on, where she wanted to… protect him? Adopt him? 

A sudden loud noise outside the window made him jump, and it took him a second to place it, as he hadn’t been expecting to hear it: honking. It made him tune in to the sounds he could hear, and he realised they must be near a road – a Muggle road. Hal could hear the traffic, the definite rumble of car engines. Manifestly, wherever the crazy lady had taken him, they had left Hogsmead. That didn’t seem like good news.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as the key turned in the lock again, and he saw the blurred form of the woman in the doorway.

“Good morning, precious boy.” She greeted him, her voice sickly sweet. “How did you sleep?”

As she approached, Hal was alarmed to find he wasn’t feeling any more energetic than when he’d first woken up. He tried to bat her away, his arm moving slowly and only meeting air in a pathetic attempt at anything defensive. He couldn’t do anything when she reached him and helped him up onto unsteady feet.

“Come on.” She spoke to him like you would a little child. “Let’s get you some breakfast.”

She led him out of the room, through a corridor and into a kitchen that Hal could see, in spite of his much limited vision, did look very Muggle, confirming they must be in a non-Wizarding area, or at least a mixed neighbourhood. As far as he could make out, there was a spread of food on the table, and a doll in a high chair across from where she made him seat – he had a brief moment of horror thinking it was an actual baby, but he could just distinguish the immobile, raised plastic arms and fixed expression.

“This is Laura.” The woman still introduced the thing like it was a real person. “Your little sister.”

It made Hal want to vomit on the spot. She did have delusions that she was adopting him, then.

“ Was she always so lively?” He sneered.

_ Was she always a doll? _ An unhelpful part of his brain supplemented.  _ Shit _ , he couldn’t help but think next. Was she going to turn  _ him _ into a doll?

“You should eat.” The woman said, ignoring his question – maybe for the best. “You skipped dinner.”

“I can’t see.” Hal pointed out, in a bid to get his glasses back.

He needed to assess his surroundings, and try to figure out a way he could get the hell out. He did realise being all drugged up wouldn’t play in his favour, but he certainly wasn’t going to just sit and take it quietly, and any attempt at an escape would go much better if he could see where he was going.

Sadly, it didn’t take. The woman pulled a chair up to his side, picked up a bowl and spoon and set out to feed him. Hal turned his head like a reluctant toddler.

“You need to eat, my precious boy.” She cooed. “This is nice cinnamon porridge.”

“I’m not eating anything from you.” Hal spat out – both the words and the porridge, when she tried to push the spoon past his clenched lips.

“You’re being very unreasonable.” She put the bowl down with a little more force than necessary.

“You’ve kidnapped me!” Hal cried. “ _ I’m _ unreasonable?”

“I’m only protecting you.” She argued back. “You will thank me one day, Harry, my lovely Harry.”

It was getting creepier by the minute, and Hal was now pretty convinced he was going to end up in a doll. Or locked in his room and drugged up, which wasn’t much better.

“ Oh.” She sighed suddenly, getting up. “Let me see if our darling Christopher is awake.”

_ Shit _ , Hal thought again, as she move out to the corridor. Hal could no longer see her, but he could only assume there was another  creepy room in the house, with another boy in there. He imagined if it had been another doll, it would have been sat at the table already. Groggily, he got up and started looking through the drawers, feeling and squinting for anything useful – like a large kitchen knife, maybe.

H e didn’t find anything in the time it took the woman to return, and knew there wasn’t anything useful to find as she didn’t seem to find it alarming that he was up searching at all.

“What do you need, my love?”

Hal did not reply,  distracted as she returned  carrying someone – another child, as  he’d  suspected, a real one. Probably a little younger than Hal was, at least the blurred form seemed smaller in her arms. As she came closer, he could see that she was fully  holding  him; he was limp and offered no resistance, and at first Hal thought she’d  simply  dosed him with something stronger than what he’d received  and he was still asleep from it . 

But as she put him down into a chair and propped him up, his head lolling from side to side  on his until she rested it against the backrest , Hal was close enough to see just how still he was, his chest not even faintly lifting up with breath. He was close enough to see the bluish hue to his pale skin. Close enough to see the boy was unmistakably dead.

“He’s a little out of it.” The woman commented casually,  sounding for all things like she’d not noticed . “His sleeping drugs sometimes knock him out a bit.  I had to increase his dose a little, he wasn’t behaving. You’ re not going to do the same, right  my love ? You’re going to eat your breakfast now? Come on, precious boy, sit down. ”

Hal felt proper panic swell up in his chest, the reality of his predicament fully hitting him. With sickening clarity, he knew this was how the boy had died, overdosed on whatever sleeping drugs she had given him, and he knew she was going to kill him too eventually. Accidentally, perhaps, but she definitely wasn’t going to let him go. And he certainly wasn’t going to play house with her. He needed to get out of here. Now.

With the panic, so rose his magic – he felt it, humming below his sternum, and he realised this was probably his only chance. Let the panic take over, let his instinctive magic do something, before she drugged him again, before he calmed down and he wasn’t able to summon anything anymore without a wand. God, his wand. He needed his wand, if only he had his wand, and maybe his glasses, but mostly his wand, he could do  _ something _ with his wand. Feeling himself starting to hyperventilate, his squeezed his eyes shut and, as intensely as he possibly could against the fogginess of the fear and the drugs, focused all of his thoughts on one word: wand.

The magic exploded out of him when the woman grabbed his arm, trying to get him to sit down again. A surge of magic knocked her away from him, and he actually felt something  hit his knuckles, and dived to grab it as it clattered on the floor – his wand! He closed his fingers tightly around it b ut he didn’t use it, couldn’t think how to use it; he just ran. His fight-or-flight instinct seemed to have kicked in, a surge of adrenaline finally helping to clear his head a little and give him back some better control of his limbs.

It was a short sprint to the front door, which Hal found wasn’t even locked. He couldn’t hear anything behind him, presumably the raw magic coming out of him had knocked out his kidnapper, but he wasn’t going to chance it, and he dashed out onto the street.  He stumbled, unable to see very far without his classes, scraping his bare feet painfully on the pavement. 

He had been right, they were in a Muggle neighbourhood. He didn’t know how he found the presence of mind to put his wand away, but he did. The last thing he needed was to get picked up for unlicensed underage use of magic or for breaking the Statute of Secrecy – he didn’t think his bout of magic inside the house would have triggered the trace, as it probably qualified as accidental, but using his wand certainly would. He did need help, and Aurors popping out of thin air would be good for that, but he somehow didn’t think that’d be the best way to stage a rescue.

H is best bet right now, he reckoned, was to find the police, so when a passer-by  stopped  to ask if he was alright, that was the one word he blurted out.  And almost as if he subconsciously assumed he was out of trouble now, his energy suddenly left him.

“Wow!” The man caught his arm before he collapsed. “Easy there. Here, gently, sit down.”

At least they were still in Scotland, Hal thought, going by the man’s strong accent.  He helped Hal lower himself to the ground until he was sat on the kerb between two parked cars. Hal presumed he then took out a mobile phone,  because when he next spoke, he sure wasn’t talking to him.

“Yes, hello. I’ve got a child here, he looks like something’s happened to him, maybe drugged, he’s got no shoes, and he’s asked for the police. Yes. No. In front of a Co-op…  Fife Street. Alright. Ta.”

The man crouched next to him, closing up a flip phone in his hand.

“Police is on their way.” He told Hal. “Hang in there, alright. What’s your name, lad?”

“ Harry.” Hal answered weakly.

“Hang in there, Harry.” The man repeated.

I t took maybe fifteen minutes for the police to get there; Hal’s helper explaining that the nearest station was ‘up in Rothes’, and though Hal couldn’t help but glance around worriedly (not that he could see much), under the man’s increasingly concerned gaze, it didn’t seem that the crazy lady had come out after him. He hoped he hadn’t killed her – he didn’t want to add manslaughter to the mix, even if he wouldn’t have shed a tear for her actual life.

An ambulance had been called as well, in which they made Hal sit to check him over and take his blood, even as one of the police officers,  a kind-looking woman, started asking him questions. He gave his name,  and the name of the pretend school that was Hogwarts’  stand-in for Muggleborns  when talking to  friends and famil y members that weren’t in the know, pretending that was where his  abduction  had occurred the day before. It was an actual school, McGonagall had explained  that in first year, with an adequately Confunded Headmistress to make the cover plausible. 

Similarly, he couldn’t exactly mention the no-doubt magical powder she’d thrown at him and he said it had been a cloth over his nose like she’d done the second time. They found needle marks on him, too, indicating that she’d used Muggle means of drugging him, which was oddly good news. And he limited his account to owing his lucky escape to an outburst of adrenaline, rather than magic. When he got to that part, he had to fight down nausea as he remembered ‘Christopher’.

“I need to take you there.”  He said. “ I think I can…”

He looked up, trying to remember which way he’d come through the blurry streets, but it hadn’t been a very long way – he hoped he could retrace his steps.

“ You don’t need to go back.” The policewoman told him placatingly. “We’ll be taking you to the  hospital to make sure you get all the checks , call your parents, and we can carry on talking to you when they’re there.”

“No, we need to-  There was another kid.”  H al added to explain this sudden request.

The officer immediately looked alarmed, and started telling his colleague to call for backup and the paramedic still hovering around Hal to prepare an intervention bag, at which point Hal shook his head.

“He’s dead.” He breathed out. He heard the woman swear under h er breath. “ But maybe, there may be- I didn’t see all the rooms.”

He trailed off, but he was sure he’d gotten his meaning across. While his account of the kidnapping probably hadn’t warranted immediate action as long as he was out of harm’s way, it was a whole different matter if there were potentially more children in there with a clearly unstable, drug-happy woman.

“Alright, Harry.” She told him. “If you  know how to get back, or any description you can give us of the house…”

It took some doing – Hal was still half-blind, groggy from the remaining drugs coursing through his blood, and the plastic wraps they’d given him from the ambulance really did nothing to even pretend they could perform any of the functions expected of shoes – but in the end they got to the right house. Inside, they found the woman, curled up on her kitchen floor crying, with the dead boy and the doll still sat at the table, their plates full of food.

H al wasn’t entirely sure how things went from there as he was whisked back out to the ambulance, but another officer arrived with the team who was going to inspect the scene, and provided answers to the questions Hal hadn’t even asked himself yet – such as, what were they going to make of the pages from the  _ Daily Prophet _ in the house’s creepy  bed room? – when he handed him  h is glasses.

“Found these.” He said, and Hal saw him smile when he gratefully put them on  and the world came back into focus . He leaned forward and continued in a hushed tone. “I’ll be contacting Hogwarts. You just handle giving  my colleagues there  your Muggle relatives’ number, alright?”

Hal could only blink at the man, taken by surprise, but he supposed if the woman who’d taken him had been a witch, or at least by all indications was involved with magic, and with Hogwarts and Hogsmead being so close, it made sense for Wizards to be posted within the local Muggle police force.

Petunia and Ley arrived shortly after they had finished checking him over at the hospital – revealing quite a lot of chemicals in his bloodstream; nothing that would have lasting effects for him in theory, though they wanted to keep him in observation overnight – which told Hal magic must have been involved in getting them there. It was early afternoon by that point, barely twelve hours had elapsed since the attack in Hogsmead (he’d not even missed any classes!) but his aunt held him like he’d been missing for months.

“I’m  alright .” Hal kept repeating.

B ut she had heard about the other kid, who was not so  alright.  A s Hal had suspected, he’d overdosed on a cocktail of drugs the crazy lady had  injected him with . Roughly the same cocktail she had given Hal, and if Hal had been any smaller… so he  he could see how it might have been a close call,  and he let her hold him for as long as she wished.  It wasn’t like he couldn’t do with the comfort too.  She told him Sirius was fine  when he asked , if worried out of his mind about him, as were all his friends. She and Ley had been staying at Malfoy Manor since the previous evening, which explained how quickly they could be there  once the police had contacted them on Petunia’s mobile .

He found out that the boy, Christopher, had been missing for two weeks after he’d disappeared on a school trip. It had been all over the papers and on TV – he was only ten, an orphan who was being raised by his grandfather after surviving, at two years old, the  grisly murder of his parents by a  rather sick serial killer .  Incidentally, though the murder scene had been thoroughly cleaned, it was evidence overlooked and found on him that had allowed the police to finally catch the killer – that had been all over the news at the time, too,  and in the following years with the high profile trial .  Hal tried not to think about that too closely, and the similarities with his own story. He wondered if the woman had  also had  a room full of pictures and articles about Christopher. 

* *

*

The relief when they were told Hal had been found and was going to be just fine had led way to frustration, when they were informed that he’d spend the night in the Muggle hospital, that they couldn’t visit him there and tha t afterwards his aunt would take him back to  Surrey – it was only a week till the Easter break, and the school had agreed with her that he would be better off recuperating at h o me.

“ You’re not going to let us see him?” Ron was the one to voice it, when McGonagall reported the news at lunchtime. 

“We are not taking seven of you to a Muggle hospital, no.” The professor told them sternly. “But Mister Potter will be discharged tomorrow, and you can rest assured that he is no longer in any danger.”

“He’s allowed to visit.” Ron argued, pointing at Sirius who was sitting at the teachers’ table, his Sunday roast sitting in front of him as ignored as theirs were, as he talked a gitatedly with Lupin.

“Actually, he isn’t.” She replied. “The hospital’s policy is very strict as to who they allow in as visitors for what they consider at-risk or vulnerable children. He is going there to answer the Muggle DMLE’s questions about the abduction.”

He’d have to Polyjuice, too, having been in the Muggle news as a dangerous criminal over the summer – better avoid that can of worms.

“ But there is an Auror in the force there.” McGonagall added. “And Mister Black is going to give him some of Harry’s things, if you wan to add-”

They all scrambled to their feet before she could finish talking, abandoning their lunch to run to the nearest quill and parchment.

“He leaves in an hour!” She called after them.

The Gryffindors dashed their way – McGonagall had already taken care of packing a bag for Hal, and a carrier for Little John Silver, but Hermione wanted to check she had included his phone so they could at least call him. Ron still had some of the stack of treats his mother had traditionally sent for his birthday and wanted to include some of that, and Neville as usual had some plant or herb he could think of with properties suiting the situation.

Blaise decided it was just exhausting to be friends with them, if they couldn’t go two months without one of them ending up in some dire straits, and please could Draco just add that he said ‘Take care’ at the end of his letter. Draco rolled his eyes, but disappeared into his room to write. Anthony though he’d probably want some privacy for that, and he headed out to the library with Pan.

Sat in a quiet corner, they talked about how Hal’s magic was decidedly powerful, having been told the account of how Hal had escaped and finding it rather amazing he could still perform ‘accidental’ magic at his age, wondering exactly when this stopped being considered something children naturally did and became an impressive and unusual skill to have.

In a lull in the conversation, Anthony made a decision.

“ Draco’s in love with Hal.”  He blurted out.

Pan frowned. “How do you know?”

Anthony frowned. “How do _you_ know?”

“He told me.” Pan said. “Well. I guessed, then he admitted it.”

“I just guessed.” Anthony nodded slowly. “It wasn’t said outright, but… yeah, it’s kind of obvious once you’ve got it in your mind.”

Pan snorted. “I know, right? Though admittedly he’s better at hiding it from Hal than he is from us.”

“True.” Anthony chuckled. “I think he was freaking out about not having told him, if something had happened to Hal… Well, something did happen to him. Something worse, I mean.”  His mouth twisted in uncertainty. “Do you think he should?”

“Tell Hal he loves him?” Pan checked. “Yeah.” He answered when Anthony nodded.

“Really?” Anthony seemed surprised.

“What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Hal reacts badly.” Anthony envisaged. “He thinks it’s terrible, and he doesn’t want to be his friend anymore. And out whole group collapses because we’ll have to pick sides.”

“Alright, I’m not saying Hal’s reaction’s got to be ‘Great news, brilliant, let’s be boyfriends’.” Pan said. “But do you really think he’d respond so badly that it’d ruin their friendship, after what they already went through together since first year?  You know Hal, better than me even. Do you really think he’d be angry, or disgusted?”

“ Alright, I see your point, but second worst then.” Anthony argued. “Hal is cool with it, but he doesn’t feel the same, so he goes  _ Thanks but no thanks _ , and we all carry on as if nothing had been said, only it’s incredibly fucking awkward.”

“ Hal likes boys too.” Pan revealed. “And girls. At least, he’s considering both options.”

“I did notice a few stray looks.” Anthony mused. “But he never seemed too interested in either.”

“No.” Pan admitted. “I think he’s burying his head in the sand a little. But that’s why I think, if Draco told him, it might kick him into gear. Make him think, as well. And it’s not like there’s nothing to think about, I mean, come on, do you remember how they were at the end of last year?”

“They did get a lot closer after the whole  possession and  Basilisk debacle.” Anthony recalled.

“I don’t know why these boys need near-death experiences to face their feelings.” Pan sighed. “But I’m telling you – there’s something there that’s just waiting to grow, and it’s not just coming from Draco.”

“I think you might be right.” Anthony acknowledged.

“That’s a skill I have.” Pan said loftily.


	11. April

Ley came up with a bowl of chilli for Hal after he’d slept through dinner. He was doing better, he really was, but a lot of his nights were shot to hell. He had nightmares, where he couldn’t see, couldn’t run, couldn’t wake up. He drowned, suffocated – sometimes faced snakes, those were back too. So  almost  a week  after the ordeal,  there were nights where he didn’t sleep at all, and days where he napped throughout. Ley and his aunt were patient about it, though Hal had heard her suggest maybe he should ‘speak to someone’, which he knew meant see a psychologist. 

“ You’re  still on the news.”  Ley  announced as he  handed the food out to  Hal.

Hal sat up against the wall and picked it up gratefully. Unlike his sleep patterns, his appetite was as healthy as a thirteen year old boy’s should be.

“Yeah, sorry if that has lost some of its novelty for me.” He told his cousin. “Been on the news for twelve years.”

“The real news.” Ley insisted. “I mean, our news.”

“It’s really nothing to be excited about.” Hal muttered.

The national press had soon picked up the story from the local Scottish papers – Hermione’s parents had been a little miffed, apparently, because she hadn’t told them about it before they saw it on the 6pm news and recognised Hal. The Christopher case had been big already, so they were riding on the back of that, on top of having found a new love in covering Hal’s ‘terrible ordeal’ and his remarkable bravery when he’d ‘refused to be led to safety’ and had instead insisted to take the police back to his abductor’s house to make sure no other child was in danger.

“Well, everyone at school was talking about it.” Ley said. “Some people I’m pretty sure I had never spoken to before have asked me if you’re alright and told me how hard it must be.”

“They’ll calm down over the break.” Hal assessed.

“Probably.” Ley agreed. “Oh, here’s Ceri again.”

He got up to open the window and let Draco’s owl in. She landed on Hal’s desk with a happy chirp, dropping a small parcel on the surface, and Ley went to pet her. She had become very familiar with both boys over the course of the last week – Draco sent her with a letter or a trinket every day, sometimes twice a day. He also got a daily call from Hermione, usually with everyone else loudly gathered around her, though he didn’t think that would carry on into the holiday as they weren’t all staying at Hogwarts over the break. He’d almost expected some of them to be on his doorstep the minute school broke, actually, but in the end they’d arranged various visits the following week in a more civilised manner.

Hal had cleared a shelf in his room to lay out all their notes and small gifts, from the first ones they’d all sent over with his stuff when he was still at the hospital. It reminded him daily that he was home safe, and that he’d be back at school soon and be safe there, surrounded by people who loved him in both cases. It kept him sane. After all, though that sounded a bit sad, he’d been through this before, he knew he’d be fine in a while – though he wondered, sometimes, if PTSD was cumulative.

He’d gotten a letter from Sirius too, and he could tell the man felt guilt over what had happened,  as much as Hal had tried to assure him none of it had been his fault, and there hadn’t been much he could have done. It was difficult to convey in a letter, so Hal was looking forward to seeing him again face to face and iron things out, make sure his godfather wasn’t letting that weight on him. He’d be visiting the next day – the original plans they’d made, before all this, had been for him to join them and meet Petunia and Ley on Easter Sunday, but given the circumstances, they’d moved it up a week.

L ey laughed as he opened Draco’s parcel for Hal, the latter’s hand  still  occupied with wolfing down his bowl of chilli. 

“It’s another  character.”

Draco had been sending him these little wooden figurines – according to a midweek letter from Anthony, Draco had found a stress relief in transfiguring sticks he found on his long walks (he’d apparently been quite restless following Hal’s ordeal) and he was getting really good at it. Hal thought the first ones were good, so he wondered how many sticks had gotten transfigured into more misshapen things that Draco hadn’t been sending. He had a little cat now, an owl, a dragon, and last few ones were people and were actually so well done they  were identifiable , even if just a  couple of  inches tall each: Hal himself, Ley, Petunia…

“Sirius.” Hal recognised, taking the la test figure from Ley with a delighted smile. “These are really good.”

H e didn’t know if he was reading too much into it, but he thought there was also a kind of acceptance, a leap of faith almost, in the fact that Draco had made Sirius before, say, any of their group of friends. He was acknowledging the man was important to Hal, and if he was still harbouring suspicions or resentment towards him, then he was willing to set those aside for Hal’s sake.

“ Caroline would love those.” Ley commented. “She makes puppets of people she knows with wool and string and stuff.”

“Who’s Caroline?” Hal frowned.

“My girlfriend.”

He frowned even harder. “I thought her name was Elisa.”

Ley looked half sheepish, half proud. “Oh, it didn’t last long with Elisa.” He said. “I’m dating Caroline now.”

“That was quick.” Hal laughed.

“Hey, what can I do.” Ley shrugged cheekily. “Girls want me.”

“Yeah, I guess you turned out alright.” Hal teased.

Luckily, part of him thought, though it would probably have been mean to tell Ley as much. But he’d seen pictures of his uncle Vernon. Ley  _ was _ rather lucky.  He was growing up lean, toned, with a handsome face always made even more pleasant by his brash smile.

“ You must be popular too.” Ley said. “That broom-ball shit has made you fit.”

“Quidditch.” Hal snorted. “And yeah, clearly I’m popular. Girls will go as far as abducting me and trying to adopt me into their creepy doll family.” He diverted, feeling strangely more emboldened to joke about that than he did about discussing the dating scene at Hogwarts.

“Mate.” Ley’s face fell. “Sorry.”

Hal waved a hand,  more casually than he felt . “Don’t worry about it.”

“ Knock knock?” 

Hal’s aunt appeared smiling at the door, carrying a plate of chocolate biscuits and a cup of tea. Hal traded his empty bowl of chilli for them, eager to indulge.

“How are you feeling, darling?” She asked him.

“I’m good.” Hal answered truthfully. “The nap helped. Can we watch a film before bed?”

“Sure.” She said, even as she checked her watch. “Not too long, maybe. Your godfather is coming tomorrow.”

“I know.” Hal nodded. “We’ll be up bright and early to get everything tidy and help you in the kitchen.” He said teasingly, almost reciting.

“Do I have a godfather?” Ley suddenly asked. 

H is mom was momentarily startled by the question, but she answered easily.

“Yes.” She said with a distasteful little wrinkle of her nose. “Your father’s line manager from when you where born. Vernon insisted at the time – office politics were one of his favourite games.”

“How come I’ve never met him?” Ley probed.

“You have, when you were very little, at a dinner or other.” Petunia said. “Patrick was flattered, but not really very interested in you. We lost touch after your father’s death.” She ruffled her son’s hair. “It’s not a big loss, I promise.”

Ley shrugged, genuinely not bothered, easygoing as he always was. He was only curious – and that prompted him to carry on questioning.

“How about a godmother?”

Hal’s aunt looked like she had been half-expecting the question, but hadn’t braced herself for it.

“Lily.” She said quietly after a pause. “I was yours.” She added, turning to Hal. “ Am, yours, I suppose.  When we were girls, we promised we would be each other’s children godmother s , and  even if we started falling out when Lily went to Hogwarts and we never really discussed it again when you both were born… well, still, neither of us picked another.”

H al looked at her,  trying to figure out if he felt any different knowing that. But he still saw the woman who had raised him, been a n actual mother to him all these years, took care of him… He didn’t think it made a difference if she was or wasn’t his godmother, especially as that was barely semi-official.  So he shrugged.

“You’re more my mom than my godmother, anyway.”

H al could tell his aunt was pleased by the statement, and he thought, maybe, he should tell her more often. Nevertheless, he spent a while lying  awake in bed that night, letting himself think for the first time about how his life would have turned out if Sirius had stayed – hadn't gone after Peter, had remembered the baby in the ruined house, and stayed to take care of him. He would have had a father figure, which was the biggest difference that came to mind. He wouldn't have had Ley and his aunt, and that hurt to imagine, but it didn't mean he would not have had a fuller family. Sirius might have married, given him a sibling or several.

A ctually, he realised, the biggest difference was that he would have grown up a magical child, in the Wizarding world  from day dot,  rather than rejoining it with a ten-year gap . In some ways, it sounded wonderful, and  part of him was sorry he had missed out on that, always marvelling and a little bit envious at how easy and wonderful everything seemed when he visited Draco or the Weasleys. On the other hand… if the previous weekend had shown anything, it was that it had been a blessing growing up hidden away from the spotlight,  rather than in the midst of people who would see him as a hero for Voldemort’s demise.

In some ways, though it felt a little cruel to the man to think it, Sirius had actually done him a favour.

* *

*

Sirius had been nervous about meeting Petunia – he had admitted as much to Hal in his last letter. _My instinct is to dislike and distrust her_ , he'd even written. Hal couldn't really blame him; Sirius did not have much to go on, he still only knew what Lily had told him about her. She had no doubt mentioned Petunia's rejection, if not hatred, of magic, which did not exactly paint the picture of someone who would be a good fit raising a wizard lovingly. So Hal understood his godfather's reservations – all he asked of him was that he came open-minded, and gave her a chance.

It seemed to be the case when he opened the door to a cheerful-looking Sirius, his arms laden with parcels  and  dressed in completely normal clothes by Muggle standards (rather than appearing like he'd raided a charity shop  or was on his way to entertain a child’s birthday party , as a lot of Wizards did when trying to go unnoticed in the Muggle world).

“Should have taken a bag.” He grinned at Hal. “Here, help me out.”

He dumped a large bouquet of flowers into Hal’s arms, readjusted a box under his arm, passed him what felt like a wicker basket, tightened his grip on a bottle of wine and made sure another bundle was tucked in the crook of his elbow.

“Overdid it somewhat?” Hal suggested playfully.

“Wasn't sure what your folks would like.” Sirius justified. “Oh, hello!”

Ley and Petunia had made their way from the kitchen and were both eyeing the man with a mix of curiosity and wariness, though Hal's aunt was better at hiding it, and waved him in with a pleasant smile

“Come in, come in. Oh, you shouldn't have.” She added when Hal handed her the flowers and hamper, which he could only assume were for her.

They went back into the kitchen in barely controlled chaos, Sirius miraculously managing not to drop any of the stuff he was still holding until he could put it down on the table while Petunia filled a vase. He presented a bottle of wine to her as well and a football shirt for Ley, from his favourite club.

“Hal said you outgrew yours.” He explained, clearly nervously waiting to see whether or not Ley would like and accept the gift.

Both boys exchanged a look and refrained from laughing.  T he problem with the previous  j ersey had been less that of size and more related to a minor tumble through a thicket of bramble. A long story.

“It's brilliant.” Ley grinned happily. “Thank you.”

Sirius had a relieved smile, doubled when Hal's aunt opened her gift basket and  gushed as she  found a set of nice artisanal jams and curds.

“Got something for you too, fawn.”  Sirius  told Hal. “I can show you later. Oh, and this.” He patted the last box on the table, which looking at it more closely was an old shoe box. “This is for everyone.” He looked up, uncertain again, at Petunia. “I thought you might like to see some of those.”

He opened the box, and revealed a stack of photographs, most of them moving, showing various groupings of the same four teenagers. Sirius himself, Lupin, James and Lily. Sirius muttered something about removing the ones with Peter.

“I lost most of my stuff when I went to prison.” He said almost apologetically. “So I asked Remus. Here.”

He grabbed one of the photos to hand it to Petunia; it was a large one of Lily, looking straight at the camera as if she was challenging them, a little looped quirk in her eyebrows the only movement.

“That was on her eighteenth birthday.” Sirius told them, as they stared at the picture – Hal and Ley having gathered round Petunia to look it over with her.

“That hair.” Hal's aunt whispered with a little laugh, though it was one tainted with sadness. “It was always so beautiful. I was rather jealous of it.”

“James wrote  _ poems _ about that hair.” Sirius snorted. “I was also rather jealous of it.” He joked.

They spent the next hour or so going through various pictures and sharing stories, Hal pleasantly surprised to hear some fond memories that his aunt did have of her sister, when they'd been a lot younger.  She’d never lied to Hal and tried to hide that at the time of his and Ley’s births,  _ hate _ would barely have been too strong a word for how she felt about Lily. He knew she’d been making amends for that. But it was nice to also be reminded that there had been a time before that where the girls genuinely were very fond of each other, played together and shared their secrets.

W hen lunched approached, Petunia recruited Ley to help her out in the kitchen, declining Sirius and Hal’s offer to do their bit too, declaring they should go sit down in the front room and catch up.

“Fawn, I wanted to say…” Sirius started when they were alone.

“Don’t.” Hal interrupted immediately.

“I’ve not said anything yet.” Sirius pouted.

“No, but you’re about to apologise for what happened last week.” Hal guessed. “So don’t. It wasn’t your fault.”

Sirius sighed, and seemed ready to argue, but Hal gave him a look and he dropped it, muttering something about Lily’s eyes being unfair.

“Well, alright.” He said instead, pulling something out of the back pocket of his jeans. “But I hope you’ll still accept this. It’s not  _ only _ related to what happened. I probably would have given it to you at some point anyway, but last week made me thin k … this would be good for you to have.”

He pushed a small parcel towards Hal, wrapped in cloth. When he unravelled the fabric, Hal found a hand mirror.

“I’ve got its twin.” Sirius explained. “It’s a means of communication. If we’re both looking at the same time, we can talk and everything. James and I used to use these a lot during our many escapades.”

“It’s amazing.” Hal marvelled with a wide grin. Like a magical walkie-talkie, with the bonus of being able to see who you were speaking to. “I feel like I need another  pair of these  for me and Ley.” He added with a laugh.

“You boys definitely sound like you get up to about as much mischief as we used to.” Sirius grinned, sounding proud like he often did whenever it was about Hal misbehaving.

Hal suspected  that  having spent most of his twenties isolated in prison trying not to slowly go completely mad, he hadn’t really had a chance to see himself as the adult in the room – or as an adult at all. In essence, he was still the maverick, the cool uncle, not quite ready to settle down and stop acting like a bit kid.  And now, with all these years lost, he might be even worse, trying to catch up on what he’d been missing out on. Hal just hoped whatever he decided to do with his new freedom, it wouldn’t be destructive.

When Hal mentioned that he had several days of visits lined up, all his friends wanting to see him but having decided they probably shouldn’t all come at once, Sirius bounced back and announced he’d also be seeing Draco the following month.

“We’re having a family reunion of sorts.” He said. “The Court’s decision on whether to restore my assets to me is on the fifth of May, so whatever happens, we thought it might be good to discuss it between us remaining living Blacks. And it will be nice to catch up. Cissy’s invited us all to the Manor on the eighth, she got Draco a special dispensation to be allowed to go home for the weekend, and Andy and her family are coming over from France.”

H al told him about their time in France over the Summer, how he’d thought Dora was really good fun, even if she could be a little overwhelming sometimes in her bouts of energy.

“Last time I saw her, she was younger than you are now.” Sirius recalled with a fond smile. “But already a handful.”

“ She’s in Uni in France at the moment, but she said she wants to train as an Auror.” Hal reported.

“Of course she does.” Sirius commented. “Merlin help the DMLE.”

“Are you nervous about the judgement?” Hal asked him, going back to the other matter tied into Sirius’ announcement.

Sirius shrugged. “Not really. What mattered to me was for my name to be cleared, and that’s done. If Peter can be convicted, that’d be nice too, otherwise I might go and commit actual murder.”

The joke fell flat, but Hal forced a tight smile. He didn’t think it was likely Pettigrew would walk free, it didn’t look like the Imperius defence was going to hold, so he would be found guilty, but they were still talking about diminished responsibility and waxing lyrical about what terrifying times he’d had to endure, in an attempt to soften the Wizengamot. And Hal knew the sentence he got would be important to Sirius, that he wouldn’t be satisfied with anything less than, well, twelve years in Azkaban at the very least.

They both got distracted when Hal’s phone vibrated with a text – Hermione, asking him if his aunt liked chocolate, even though Hal had told her repeatedly she didn’t need to bring anything when she visited – and Hal showed the device to Sirius and explained how it worked.

“Muggles are clever, when they put their mind to it.” He commented. Then, with a conniving smile. “So, this Hermione…”

“Is just a friend.” Hal completed, rolling his eyes.

“ Better that way , I suppose.” Sirius laughed. “One girl and seven boys, if you all started fighting over her…”

“Honestly, she’s a mate.” Hal insisted. “She just find it more difficult to make friends with other girls.” With a grin of his own, he added. “Although, Draco and I are pretty sure Ron’s developing a crush on her.”

“At your age, these things are going to start happening!” Sirius predicted cheerfully. “What about you?”

“What? Me what?” Hal immediately got flustered, which of course got Sirius to cast him a knowing look.

“Tell me more.” He smirked. “Who is she?”

“She’s no one.” Hal babbled, knowing he was blushing. “I’m mean she’s not- there’s no she- there’s no one.”

Sirius’ eyebrows just went higher, and he clearly was highly amused by Hal’s predicament.

“No she?” He picked up. “There’s a he?”

“No!” Hal cried desperately. “I mean. There’s no specific she, or he.”

“Oh, so it could be either?” Sirius continued teasing.

“I don’t know.” Hal muttered.

He really was not having fun here, he was actually very close to feeling humiliated, which Sirius finally seem to cotton on to.

“Hey.” He said more softly, putting a hand on Hal’s shoulder so he’d look up. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s just…” Hal huffed, frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s confusing.”

“You know you don’t have to  _ pick _ , right?” Sirius stated.

Hal  glanced up at him  and probably looked disconcerted enough that  Sirius spoke again like he was addressing someone who’s a bit slow.

“You don’t have to decide for the rest of your life if you prefer one or the other.” He suggested. “Bisexual is an option.”

Hal opened and closed his mouth, not sure what to make of that advice. He did know, of course, that some people dated boys, then girls, or vice versa. But he’d always heard of that as ‘phases’. He didn’t want to go through phases. He just wanted to figure out what would make him happy.

“I’m bisexual.” Sirius added with a shrug.

Rather unfortunately, that was exactly the moment Ley popped back into the room to tell them lunch was ready, and they both could see the startled look on his face before it morphed into a smile.

“ Okay, not what I was expecting you’d be talking about.” He remarked. “Why are we talking about that?”

“I was just trying to tell Hal…” Sirius started.

“Something personal about himself.” Hal interrupted, getting up. “No particular reason. We’re bonding. Lunch?”

Naturally, Ley knew Hal much to well, and was no idiot, so he stopped his cousin before he could run away from the room and this awkward conversation.

“You too?” He challenged him.

“I- No?” Hal tried. Ley gave him a little scoff and his best  _ yeah, right _ gaze, and Hal sighed. “I don’t know.”

“You know, it  _ would _ explain a few things.” Ley grinned.

“What?” Hal reacted with alarm. “What things?”

“Relax.” Ley laughed. “I just noticed that you don’t talk about girls with me the way we do with mates at school. Every time we start discussing something like that, you kind of shut down. I just thought you weren’t there yet, but… Hey, I can see why you didn’t really want to talk about it. I don’t care, whatever rocks your boat. Patrick at school is gay, doesn’t bother me. He gets bullied, though.” He added with a wince. 

As Hal could only gape at him, he carried on chattering.

“Also, there were a few times over the summer. Like, at Harry’s place, I thought you were kiiind of staring at his brother and sister.”

Hal flushed, which Ley thankfully did not seem to notice.

“And I thought you and Draco might have something.” Ley carried on. “Though I thought it must be the whole ‘Oh we almost died together’ disaster.”

“It was.” Hal found his voice. “Draco and I are just friends.”

“A little closer friends than with the rest of the gang, it seemed to me.” Ley assessed rather insightfully. “And didn’t you tell me he’s gay?”

“Yeah.” Hal muttered. “It doesn’t mean…”

“No, I know.” Ley waved a hand. “ Just a thought.  Also.” He added. “I saw mom  check out a website about handling a teenager coming out.”

“Oh my God.” Hal groaned. “Seriously? Don’t.” He added with a glare for Sirius’ benefit as the man cackled – whether that was at the  thought of how embarrassing it was that Hal’s aunt was looking these things up, or at the use of his name as an adverb.

“ Did you say something to her?” Ley asked. 

“I may have.” Hal admitted. “Wasn’t sure she’d heard.”

“You could have told me.” Ley sounded a bit put out.

“I know, sorry.” Hal sighed. “It’s not that I was trying to hide it from you or anything, it’s just, I wasn’t… well I’m still not sure, really.”

“Exactly why you should talk it through with your brilliant and knowledgable cousin.” Ley nodded solemnly.

When Sirius had left later that afternoon, Hal actually took Ley up on that, and told him everything that had happened the previous summer with Nils and Francezka. Ley bounced back and forth between outrage and something like envy, though the side of him that felt defensive of Hal seemed stronger.

“Sly bastard.” He said of Nils. “If I see that guy…”

“You will do nothing.” Hal sighed. “Because it was no big deal.”

“I could have been a big deal!” Ley argued. “What if Sirius hadn’t been there?”

“I don’t think he would have gone too far.” Hal judged, though nothing was less certain.

“What if he had.” Ley insisted, looking sombre. “Either way, he was taking advantage. No one takes advantage of my little brother.”

Hal rolled his eyes. “We’re the same age.”

“I am over a month older.”

Hal let it go, because they’d had this argument many, many times. Ley tended to only bring it up when it suited him. And he could tell, deep down, this wasn’t all about Nils. Tied in with what had just happened to him, the abduction, the crazy worship – it just made all and every instance Hal could remember of being the centre of attention that much more uncomfortable, the little game the Tienman twins had played with him having been the worst one.

“Leave it, though, seriously.” Hal told Ley. “It’s not worth going looking for trouble.”

“You’ll probably see the guy again though, you realise that, right?” Ley pointed out. “I mean, unless you want to completely stop hanging out with Harry, but…”

“No, no.” Hal shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He liked Harry T, and he knew Ley did too, and he was touched his cousin was prepared to deny himself that friendship (and the prospect of Harry’s great house and swimming pool) but he really did not think that was necessary.

“So what will you do if you see him?” Ley wondered.

Hal shrugged. “Ignore him. Make it clear I’m not interested. I’m telling you, he’s not some kind of awful predator. He was just looking for a bit of fun. I don’t have to play along.”

Ley had an unconvinced pout. “If you say so.”

“Don’t worry.” Hal smiled. “I know I can call you for backup.”

* *

*

Draco was, frustratingly, only the third of their friends to visit Hal during the holiday, due to commitment his mother had already made for him – the Easter break was always prime time for reasserting one’s place in society, which in terms of Narcissa Malfoy’s events calendar meant shopping, politics and lots of parties. Draco was definitely too old now to get a pass, he was probably only a year shy of being officially seen as the head of the family, and not just its young heir.

Either way, when he finally made it to Privet Drive towards the end of the first week of the holidays, Hal looked better than by Hermione’s account (‘ I thought he looked really  pale’) as well as by Anthony’s (‘He’s got that look again like he barely sleeps’).  Ron and Neville were due to pop in the next day – Ron had suggested Hal come to the Burrow, but Hal said he wasn’t up for it yet (Draco suspected his aunt wasn’t quite up for letting him out of her sight yet either). Pan had stayed at Hogwarts with Blaise over the break.

Draco thought Hal looked healthy and cheerful, or at the very least he was putting up a good front. Draco had only been to his house briefly, so as Hal gave him the full tour, he chatted animatedly about Sirius’ visit and various other things. When they wound up in his bedroom, he laughed genuinely as he showed him the pile of notes Hermione had of course brought with her for the classes he’d missed.

“Oh, and I love these.” He turned to a shelf in his bookcase, where Draco almost blushed to see his silly little wooden figures lined up.

“You didn’t have to keep them.” He said modestly. “They were just to pass the time, really, and McGonagall had us practice precise shape transfiguration, so I thought I might as well do something with the results…”

He trailed off, feeling embarrassed, but Hal beamed at him.

“I love them.” He repeated.

His next words almost made Draco’s heart stop.

“And I want you.”

“What?” Draco croaked out, his breath catching in his throat.

“I mean, if you do more of them, of course.” Hal added a bit more sheepishly, like he felt he was being pushy. “I’d like to have one of you.”

Draco had to swallow, twice, past the lump in his throat, before he managed to say a weak “Sure.”

Hal beamed again, his smile as bright as his eyes, and Draco loved him so much it hurt. I have to tell him, he thought.

“Let’s go for a walk.” Hal suggested, breaking the tension before Draco could gather up the courage to do so. “Ley’s got homework, let’s get out of his way or he’ll never get anywhere. He’s been pushing it back for days.”

Draco followed him out to the street after they’d listed to Mrs Dursley’s instructions –  _ don’t _ _ go too far, be careful, don’t talk to strangers _ , the usual though with unusual intensity. Hal mentioned the neighbourhood was very safe, but then again, Draco had never thought of Hogsmead as a particularly unsafe place before. 

It was a lovely day, sunny and mild, and they walked around the neat rows of houses with their neat lawns and their neat shrubs, commenting on the occasional overload of garden gnomes and other more or less tasteless ornaments. It was companionable, and though a little voice at the back of Draco’s head kept saying in a loop,  _ Tell him, tell him _ , he let himself just enjoy the moment. There would be plenty of time to cross that bridge and face whatever awaited on the other side.

“ Harry!” Came a sudden call.

They both turned and Draco watched as a slightly older boy, fifteen or sixteen maybe, jogged up towards them. A very stunning, tall, blond, smiling boy, who seemed very happy to see Hal, though he schooled his features once he reached them, putting on that typical  _ I’ve heard bad news _ face people donned when they wanted to appear concerned about something.

“Hi.” The specimen said. “Hey, I saw you on the news. You okay?”

“I’m fine.” Hal answered.

He seemed a lot less happy to see the guy, and Draco had an immediate inkling of who that was. It was confirmed a second later when Hal introduced him almost accusingly.

“This is Nils.” He told Draco.

“Draco.” Draco adopted his best haughty air even as he extended a hand for Nils to shake. “I’ve heard about you.”

“Have you?” Nils looked uncomfortable at the thought – good. “ We’re not-  we just met last summer. I just wanted to say hi and check because of the… W e’re not close.” 

He gestured at Hal,  rattled,  as if he thought Draco needed to assert his territory and was bowing down  to him – also good.  Draco was comfortable with him believ ing that.

“Yes.” Draco said coldly. “ Let’s keep it that way.”

Next to him, Hal had a sort of shocked huff, but he sounded perfectly casual as he spoke next.

“Yeah, so, all good with me.” He said. “We were just heading back home, so… Nice seeing you.”

Draco had never heard Hal sound so insincere, and though Nils certainly did not know him as well as Draco did, he still took the hint.

“Glad you’re okay.” He said quickly, already detaching from them to carry on down the opposite direction they were going. “See you around, Harry.”

They waited for him to turn around the corner, before a laugh broke though Hal’s lips.

“Wow.” He shook his head. “Guess that went well.”

Draco didn’t say anything, not sure what he should focus on – how cold Hal had been towards the guy, or how cold he knew he had  _ not _ been the previous summer, with the added knowledge of how ridiculously hot this guy was.  Hal took the choice out of his hands when he spoke again, looking at him with a little wonderment. 

“You went all protective just then.” He noted.

For the first time since battling his feelings for Hal, Draco did not feel embarrassed.

“Yeah, well.” He jutted his chin defensively. “People shouldn’t take advantage.”

Hal chuckled. “Ley felt just like that.”

Draco felt  like  a weight on his  chest at being compared to Ley – at the sign Hal was interpreting his reaction as brotherly, as he would have if it had come from Ley. Hal did not seem to notice his unease as he told him of his conversation with his cousin the day before, and Draco forced himself to comment in an amused tone.

“ He’ll be  annoyed he wasn’t  there to be the backup.”  He said.

“He’d have made a much bigger deal of it than it needed to be.” Hal smiled. “I’m glad it was you.”

Draco smiled tightly at that, storing the hurt with all the other ones he felt whenever Hal’s words were just what he wanted to hear, yet _just_ not right. Not without the intent Draco also wanted behind them. _Tell him_ , the voice repeated.

He ignored it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Draco needs to pull his head out of his arse, I know. He will at some point. Next chapter, in fact!
> 
> Here’s that photo of Lily <3 http://diffusionph.cccommunication.biz/jpgok/RepGR/415/415326_19.jpg (Jenna Thiam)


	12. May

Rain was falling in a steady drizzle outside the Manor, washing out Narcissa’s option of having the buffet laid out in the rose garden. It was a shame as it would have been lovely, but it wasn’t like she was short of alternatives. She instructed the Elves to set up an area in the greenhouse suitable for a party of six – as informal as a Malfoy would dare, just with a long table covered in various food and drink offerings and otherwise space to stand or sit in easy-flowing combinations.

Narcissa felt like being surrounded by plants, rather than the ornate furniture, precious artefacts and austere family portraits filling most of the rooms inside the Manor, would be more conductive to an atmosphere where everyone felt at ease. She wasn’t nervous, exactly, at the idea of welcoming her sister, brother-in-law and nice (their visit to France had helped with that) and their  unpolished cousin. But they had both so thoroughly rejected the Black family values – for whatever those were worth – that it seemed safer to gather on grounds as visually neutral as possible.

S irius had, courteously, wrote on the day of the verdict, to inform her that his lawyer had succeeded in securing all his assets back  to him , and then some. Though she might not have admitted it, she felt relieved that Sirius was again wealthy in his own right, thus removing even having to ask herself the question of what she would have been able (and willing) to do if he’d needed what was left of his family to support him.

Draco seemed eager to get to know Sirius, which Narcissa strongly suspected had less to do with their own blood ties than with the fact the man was his best friend’s godfather,  and it mattered a lot to Draco to get along with someone who would become an important part of Harry’s life. Hal. She found it very sweet that Draco was so close to the boy, though it made her realise with some sadness that her son had never actually had  any  real friends before starting Hogwarts. She’d thought he got along with other Pureblood children, but she could see now it was nothing compared to his relationship with the people he had chosen for himself.

S he was glad he would also get the chance to spend more time with Nymphadora. The girl was a fair few years older than him, but he couldn’t only benefit from having a cousin to show him, like Narcissa hadn’t known how to do, that there wasn’t just one way to be part and heir of a Noble House. Sure, Andromeda had been disinherited for the choices she’d made. But now, with all members of previous generations gone, and so few of them left, maybe they had chance to rewrite the rules. The only one who would still oppose that was Bellatrix, and there seems to be an unspoken consensus that they would just not talk about her. Even before the Dark Lord, when they had been girls, both Andy and Cissy remembered how cruel she could be. If Narcissa had to be honest, she was rather glad the woman was locked away.

“Mistress.” One of the House-elves appeared with a crack in Narcissa’s drawing room, where she was reading while waiting for her guests. “Mister Sirius Black is arrived, Mistress.”

Narcissa thanked the Elf and instructed her to call for Draco too before going down to greet Sirius, who had been shown into the entrance hall. He was looking around with a mixture of curiosity and distaste, surely prepared to dislike the place on principle. However, Narcissa could tell he had made an effort at appearing presentable; his hair was neatly trimmed around his face, the face itself fuller than it had been in the previous months and his clothes quite obviously more expensive than she had seen him wear on any of the news reports. In fact, he cut a rather dashing picture. A proper Black heir, as much as he would have hated that – but some things became ingrained in spite of yourself.

H e grinned at her, and it seemed genuine. She remembered how they had played as children, sometimes, though Sirius had always gotten along better with Andromeda (it seemed obvious and inevitable now), when adults were far enough that they wouldn’t reprimand them for the impropriety of running or enjoying themselves. When Bellatrix wasn’t around, haughtily surveying her younger siblings and cousins. Or Regulus, who was always threatening to tell – whatever it was he thought there was to tell.

“ It’s great to see you both.” Sirius said, and Narcissa saw that Draco had appeared at the top of the stairs. “Thanks for inviting me.”

They exchanged a few more expected pleasantries, Sirius presented his offering of a fine Slovakian wine – trust him to turn a traditional gift into something somehow so thoroughly outside the box – and Narcissa had ushered them into the greenhouse when the Tonks arrived,  the house immediately filling with noise as Nymphadora did not seem to be able to look around without providing a running commentary. It was endearing, really, and it relaxed the atmosphere to something casual. Familial, if Narcissa dared think it.

A s it turned out, she needn’t have worried about anything – she couldn’t remember having such a nice time in a very long while, and it seemed like all her guests were not only getting along, but truly enjoying themselves in each other’s company too. Ted Tonks was interesting, especially with Narcissa’s newly found open-mindedness regarding Muggles (she continued a correspondence with Petunia Dursley, finding a surprising lot in common with the woman that they could talk about, and she was happy to call her a close friend). Dora was lively, all over the place, but smart and full of ideas. Sirius was funny, showing no signs of any insanity Narcissa had been faintly worried he might have acquired and honed during his time in prison. Draco was opening up, at ease, sharing and absorbing, giving them a glimpse of the man he was growing up to be. And Andy was just reasonable enough to help Narcissa feel like she wasn’t the only one exercising control over the whole affair – after all, they still had to behave as befitted their status, even if most people in the room did not thin k that was so important.

At the end of the day, they almost seemed to part reluctantly, and the usual statements of  _ Let’s do this again soon _ were a lot more genuine than Narcissa had heard and said in many occasions in her life before. As Draco and her were left alone in the suddenly empty house, it was ringing with a silence that now seemed almost out of place. Narcissa had never felt like the Manor was too big for the two of them – she had her fair share of parties filling the rooms at regular intervals – but this got her thinking that maybe more permanent or semi-permanent residents wouldn’t be feel in excess. Maybe she could look into renovating the West wing into suites for Sirius and Andy and her family. 

Draco turned to her with a smile, and echoed her thoughts.

“I like having family.” He said.

“ Me too.” She smiled back.

She felt a little pang, pre-emptively missing her son already, when the thought struck her that he was only there exceptionally for the weekend, that he would be back at school the next day and that she’d spent another two months, almost, of not seeing him. Again, Draco’s mood seemed to align to hers, his smile falling.

“Mother, is it wrong to feel…” He started thoughtfully, then interrupted himself, but she encouraged him with a kind look. “It’s just…” He took a breath. “I did love father, and... I know you miss him.”

It was as close as he’d get to admitting he didn’t, Narcissa suspected, without thinking he was hurting her feelings. It did pain her to think Lucius hadn’t been enough of a  loving father to Draco for the boy to miss him,  but she understood – both sides. Lucius had only been as strict and cold as his own education dictated. Draco had grown into a different, softer direction, for which Narcissa loved him dearly, but she could see how he would have been shaped differently if his father had still been an influence in his life.

“But we wouldn’t have had this if he hadn’t died.” Draco expressed quietly. “He just wouldn’t… We wouldn’t have had this.” He repeated, shaking his head.

She heard the rest of it, what he wasn’t saying. He wouldn’t have had his friends, either. He probably would have been sorted into Slytherin, so he likely wouldn’t have met Anthony in ways that mattered; and he certainly wouldn’t have been close to any Gryffindors, let alone Harry Potter himself, unless Lucius had seen some political advantage in securing an alliance (as he certainly would have put it) with the boy.

“ No.” She admitted softly. “We wouldn’t have.”

“I’m not happy he died, obviously.” Draco continued, speaking as if the words were fragile things that might shatter. “But I’m happy we do have this.”

“M oi aussi , mon trésor.” She reached to push his hair back to the side of his face, to let him know that this really was okay and safe to discuss. “It’s normal to feel different emotions about the same thing. An event itself, its causes and its consequences, can all be very distinct from one another.”

“ I think…” Draco said carefully. “I think I would have been a different person.”

“I think I would, too.” She echoed honestly. “And that doesn’t mean there’s a better and a worse version. It doesn’t mean we would have been happier, or less happy. Only one thing would have been exactly the same.”

“What’s that?” Draco prompted.

She smiled at him again, not for the first time regretting the years where she herself had been strict and cold, distancing herself from unruly emotion, from caring too much. But there was time to get better, to make amends – time to say these things out loud.

“It would not have made any difference to how much I love you.”

* *

*

Things had gone a bit mad in the run-up to the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw game, the final match of the season and as thing stood, the decider for the Quidditch Cup. They were in that strange situation where, depending on the point difference, winning the game didn’t necessarily mean winning the Cup. Oliver was absolutely hysterical, much to Fred and George’s delight. Hal got an earful at every practice, and not that infrequently in between, about how he wasn’t to let the fact Draco was his friend stop him from, the way Ollie was going on about it, pretty much murdering him to get to the Snitch before him if he had to.

Hal pledged he wasn’t going to play any differently against Draco as he usually did. Draco was more nervous about the prospect –  though Hal kept telling him they were well matched, and either outcome was as likely as the other, he had convinced himself Hal was the better Seeker.  Their friends thought it was funny,  and had of course been placing bets. Blaise, Pan and Neville were ‘supporting’  Draco, while Anthony, Ron and Hermione (after her friends had forced her to participate) had the ir money on  Hal.

T hey weren’t the only ones betting, most of the school caught up in a frenzy that made Hal really wonder what people would be like the nearer they got to the World Cup – there was already so much talk about it,  bets and analysis and plans and predictions.  Britain hadn’t held the cup in decades, so it was a rare opportunity, and though they weren’t amongst the most fervent of fans trying to get tickets for every game, they were psyched about the idea of going to the Final.  Even Hermione, though still thoroughly unbothered about the Quidditch aspect itself, got enthused about how amazing it would be if they all got to go together.

Even though t ickets were sold out or extremely expensive to come by,  it actually did not seem altogether unlikely that this could happen.  Blaise  had had a ticket for ages  through his mother’s connections,  so had Pan through sheer amounts of family money; it was one of the things he’d packed when leaving home, quite pleased at the idea his father could not take that back.  Draco  had received two as  a gift from a former colleague of Lucius at the Ministry, whom Draco suspected of trying to court his mother,  and as Narcissa was less than uninterested by the whole prospect, she said Draco could take a friend if there would be other adults to take them. 

Arthur Weasley fulfilled that requirement; thought his own job at the Ministry, he had secured tickets for the whole family, and he was eager to take all of his children and monitor their friends too, if required. Ron’s mom had happily offered to relinquish her ticket, which Ron had offered to Hermione somewhat awkwardly, and only after it had been established within the group that Neville  didn’t want to go and that Draco had already claimed Hal for his own spare ticket.

“ That’ll be a shame.” Hermione told Neville. “I know you don’t really care for Quidditch, neither do I. But if you think of it as a camping trip-”

“A camping trip with a hundred thousand other people.” Neville interrupted with a snort. “Pass.”

“But-”

“I hate crowds.” He cut her short again.

Hermione had a pout, but she didn’t push. She was, after all, very protective of anyone’s phobias (alongside inclinations, identity, psyche, you name it) within her ongoing campaign that mental health was something that was too often ignored and should be more cared for.

Ron’s prediction about the summer final was that Bulgaria would absolutely be competing, because their Seeker would get them there (incidentally, the rest of the squad was pretty strong too) and that whoever they played, in fact even whoever won the actual game and Cup, Viktor Krum would catch the Snitch.

“He’s the best Seeker in the world.” He told them all with conviction. “It's a foregone conclusion.”

When Draco commented later on that Hal was the best Seeker in the school, so that too was a foregone conclusion, Pan cuffed him over the head. It was only the two of them left, finishing up an Arithmancy essay in the library. The others had been studying with them, but had now gone to the Great Hall to save seats before dinner was ready – sometimes it was tricky to all sit together and they were bound to retreat to their respective House tables.

“Stop selling yourself short.” Pan berated him. “You are no less a worthy Seeker than Hal is.”

“I don't think that's true.” Draco said honestly.

He knew he wasn't terrible, but he wasn’t at Hal’s level. Flying seemed to come so easily to him. Not that it came hard to Draco, but he’d _worked_ to reach that level of comfort, he’d spent hours on a broom whizzing around the Manor from when he was about four years old. Hal had first touched a broom at eleven and it’d been effortless ever since.

“You just need the proper motivation.” Pan insisted.

Draco humoured him. “Like what?”

“I've got money at stake here.” Pan reminded him. “Think of your friends.”

Draco only responded with an amused look, so Pan tried again. “I'll share the profit with you.”

Now he had to laugh. Whatever the odds were, whoever won, he very much doubted it would get Pan an amount that would make a difference to Draco. It wasn’t like he wanted for anything.

“Alright, how about this.” Pan grinned. “If Hal catches the Snitch, you have to tell him how you feel.”

“What?” Draco squeaked. “Says who?”

“Say me.” Pan answered plainly. “Otherwise I will.”

“You can’t do that.” Draco said, alarmed.

“Oh, I can.” Pan gave him a pointed look. “And I will. For your own good.”

Draco still didn’t understand why Pan was so intent on getting him to confess his feelings to Hal, but he had to admit, this actually was proper motivation if there was any. He needed to beat Hal. He could beat Hal.

The game was aggressive. Both team were playing heavy on the attack, neither of them on the back-foot, and Hal and Draco were whizzing across the field trying to spot the Snitch, while keeping an eye on each other – and on the score. The point difference mattered to both teams, and Ollie had warned Hal (with threats of painful death) not to end the game too soon.

Gryffindor didn’t need to be ahead in the points, as long as they weren’t more than two goals behind. Ravenclaw, on the other hand, did need to be leading by at least one goal, or they’d still get second place if they won from the Snitch.  When it got to that sweet spot, where catching the Snitch would mean victory not just for the game but the whole tournament, Hal and Draco started flying closer to each other, both determined not to let the other gain the upper hand.

Hal spotted it first, near the Ravenclaw hoops, but Draco was closer. Hal was faster, just about – Draco’s broom was a more recent model, making up for Hal’s reckless skill when it came to reaching breakneck speeds – especially as they were headed for a rather busy zone of the pitch, just where the Quaffle was in play. They narrowed in on the little ball shoulder to shoulder, extended their arms at the same time, fingers just a few inches away…

It all ended in a massive collision, the whistle, shouts and cheers, confusion, at the end of which half of both teams were on the ground – with a few bruises maybe, but no one seriously hurt – and the wingless Snitch was lying pitifully between Hal and Draco, both on their bums and clutching one golden wing. They had ripped the thing apart, and it became clear in the ensuing mayhem that nobody could tell which of them – if either – had gotten to it first.

During their dive, Gryffindor had actually scored an extra goal, an equalizer, meaning when Hooch decreed that she had to awards the points to both Seekers, the teams tied.  Looking at the rankings, they tied for the Cup, too. It was unprecedented, but Hooch decided it was the best decision, as long as both Captains agreed. Oliver and Roger weighed up each other and presumably the likelihood of winning  or losing  on penalties, and shook hands.

“Holy shit.” Hal heard Fred breath out beside him, from where he was sprawled on the grass.

Hal didn’t think he’d even fallen – he’d been on the other side of the pitch. He’d just casually flown down to where most of the team had landed and decided to lie there too.  He nudged Hal with his foot.

“You’re just going to keep making  Hogwarts Quidditch history,  won’t you?”

Hal laughed, Draco joining in as they both looked at the wings in their hands. Draco had heard of Snitches coming apart when the end of a game had become a little heated, but that was usually because the loosing Seeker had let anger get the best of him and try to rip it off their opponent’s hand. He didn’t think something like that had ever happened – though in professional Quidditch, the referee probably wouldn’t have awarded the points to both teams. They had much more advanced monitoring spells there to review the play by play and work out which of the Seekers had touched it first, even it it was by a fraction of a second.

“ I think I’m going to keep this.” Hal said, holding out the no-longer flapping golden piece.

“I’d definitely keeping mine.” Draco concurred.

T o top the whole ‘unprecedented’ thing off, the teams decided to throw a combined party and celebrate together. Or rather, two parties. Flitwick and McGonagall allowed for both Common Rooms to be used, setting up a temporary password for each so students of any House could join either. There wouldn’t be a massive amount of Hufflepuff or Slytherin guests, in all likelihood, but friends were welcome. Blaise and Pan most certainly intended to take advantage. They decided to meet up in Ravenclaw tower, as they generally spent more time in Gryffindor.

Pan caught Draco just out of the changing rooms, as he was heading back after a quick shower. Draco didn’t stop, knowing exactly what this would be about, so Pan just fell into step with him, unbothered.

“He caught it.” Pan noted, the tone much too casual to actually be so.

“So did I.” Draco retorted.

“Yeah, I must admit, it was rather magnificent. Just wanted to check you didn’t see it as a sign that you two are soulmates and I wouldn’t have to have this argument with you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t intend on making it easy for you.” Draco replied with a smile.

His good mood hadn’t abated, and he’d not _lost_ , so Pan couldn’t make good on his threat to go tell Hal himself. He was good for his word that way. Usually.

“Fair enough.” Pan smiled back. “So I have a compromise.”

He clearly had already thought this through.

“You don't have to tell him you're in love with him.” He offered. “I do understand, you're only just going in fourteen, it's a bit much.”

“As I’ve been trying to tell you.” Draco noted.

“ Yeah, yeah.” Pan rolled his eyes, but then stopped Draco so he could look him in the eye and state his opinion. “T ell him you like him.”

“ Isn’t that-”

“Just tell him you like him.” Pan insisted. “You can make it sound like it’s not such a big deal, it’s up to you. But honestly, Draco, if I have to look at the pining for Merlin knows how much longer…”

“Okay.”

Pan’s mouth snapped shut at the word. Clearly he hadn’t been expecting Draco to actually capitulate, or at least not this quickly.

“Really?”

“You’re right.” Draco sighed. “He should know. Well, he should know that much. I don’t want to be kicking myself for not telling him if something happens to him again.”

“Yeah.” Pan snorted. “The rate he’s going…”

“Sadly.” Draco agreed. “I have absolutely no faith he’s not going to get into some sort of trouble again at some point.”

* *

*

When Draco saw an opportunity to slip away from the party, he took it, asking Hal if he minded coming up to his room with him for ‘just a moment of peace and quiet’.  The Common Room being crowded, loud and hot, Hal readily agreed, in fact looking relieved at the offer.

“ Oh, that’s nice.” Hal sighed contentedly when they closed the door behind them, sealing off the ruckus of the party from downstairs. “My head was actually starting to hurt.”

“My eyes were starting to bleed.” Draco replied jokingly. “Watching Ron attempt to dance.”

Hal laughed. “Yeah, he’s shit isn’t he.”

Draco gathered some books on his bed, rearranging them on his side table to give himself something to do,  as Hal went to pet Ceridwen by the window – more often than not she perched there, when she wasn’t out hunting or on a delivery, rather than in the Owlery. It didn’t bother Anthony and she was well-behaved, so it made sense for her to be more comfortable.

When he couldn’t really push it off any longer, Draco took a deep breath.

“I had something to tell you, actually.”

Hal came back and hopped casually on his bed, heaving himself up to sit cross-legged facing Draco.

“Yeah?” He encouraged with a smile.

“ I like you.” Draco said before he could convince himself he shouldn’t again, now he’d decided to just come out with it.

Hal’s smile fell, out of surprise. “Like…” He probed hesitantly.

“Like, I like boys.” Draco stated. “In general. And I like you, in particular.”

“ Right.” Hal said. 

Draco didn’t dare look at him, so he directed his next words to the quilt.

“I just thought you should know.” He muttered. “I didn’t want it to… I don’t know, erupt in an awkward way, or at the wrong moment, or someone else telling you, or-”

“Draco.” Hal interrupted.

“It doesn’t have to change anything.” Draco went on. “It’s not a big deal, I just thought you should know.”

“How can it not change anything?” Hal questioned.

“I mean, I’m not going to start acting different or anything.” Draco shrugged. “I wanted to tell you, but you can pretend I never said anything. We’re still friends, and I know-”

“I don’t want that.”

Draco had to look up as the words sliced through his ramble, startled. Hal looked thoughtful.

“I’m not going to act as if I didn’t hear that.” Hal declared.  Then, after a pregnant pause. “Would you want to date?” He asked.

“ I’m not telling you this because I want or expect anything.” Draco answered.

“I know.” Hal assured. “And I don’t want to just be like Oh, alright, convenient, let’s go with that then. I’m still… figuring myself out.”

“I understand.” Draco nodded.

“Like I said, though, I’m not going to ignore that.” Hal continued. “I want to think about it, if that’s okay?”

“Of course.”

“So in order to do that… I guess, what would you want us to be?” He blushed as he finished asking the question.

Draco actually had to think about it. He hadn’t projected himself that far, mortified as he’d been by the mere idea of confessing anything to Hal and the crippling fear of how he would react.

“I guess…” He echoed. “Yeah, I guess I’d like us to date.”

“ Officially?” Hal pushed further.

Draco looked down again. It hadn’t seemed like a real big deal when he’d accidentally revealed he was gay on Valentine’s, but it had been in a rather restricted group of people he knew were friends, and none of them had seemed interested in spreading the gossip. It actually had gone around surprisingly little, so as far as most of the school was concerned, it still wasn’t official.

Draco didn’t think of it in terms of hiding; if it became public, he’d admit to it. He knew one thing, however, and that was that he wasn’t ready to come out to his mother yet. He had to take the time to think about how to do it right. He was still worried about how it would make her feel, even if he was confident her outward reaction wouldn’t be bad – her open invitation to Pan for a place to stay told Draco as much.

“Not… too much.” Draco therefore answered awkwardly. “I mean, of course I wouldn’t want to keep it a secret from our friends, but other than that, I don’t really want a lot of people to know.”

“ Okay.” Hal took it in.

He remained silent for a few minutes, long enough that Draco started to wonder if he should suggest they go back to the party, but just as he opened his mouth to do so, Hal spoke again.

“You know…” He interrupted himself with a little chuckle. “It’s just funny, because Ley said something when I was last home.”

Draco cast him a questioning look, which Hal answered by explaining.

“He said he thought there was something between us. That we seemed a bit closer than with the rest of the group.”

“I think we are.” Draco noted. “But independently of… well, this.” He completed with a blush.

“I thought the same.” Hal smiled. “I mean, the whole Chamber of Secrets thing…” He winced. “I think that’d bring anyone closer.”

“That’s not why…” Draco felt he had to justify himself. “This isn’t some kind of hero worship.”

“I know.” Hal smiled again, soft and fond.

They said nothing for another few moments, until Draco thought he should also inform him…

“By the way.” He sighed. “Pan knows about this. He actually was quite pushy about me telling you.”

“Was he.” Hal laughed. “Guess I’ll have to see if I have to go thank him or curse him, then.”

Draco laughed too, albeit nervously. He hoped it wouldn’t be the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I’m leaving this here! It’s not magic. Give Hal some time.


	13. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for the road.
> 
> Some scenes in this chapter are similar in some ways to what a school shooting would be like – it’s brief, and there's no actual guns, but please heed this as a warning if that doesn’t work for you.

Exams went rather well, Hal thought, all things considered. There had just been a really weird moment at the end of his Divination practical, after he’d dutifully invented some terrible fates for himself in the crystal ball (which really wasn’t that hard, given all the inspiration he could draw from real events). Trelawney had seemed very happy with the whole crackpot fortune telling, but then she’d gone into some sort of a trance and had started spouting her own nonsense. Hal had been too startled to listen to every word, but it had been something about the Dark Lord and a servant, and the rather ominous prediction of  _ tonight _ .

“Mate, what happened?” Ron asked him when Hal came out of the room.

He imagined he looked quite shaken, and he did hear a slight tremor in his voice as he told his friends what had just happen.

“I think she said something about him rising again.” He added uncomfortably.

“But he’s dead.” Ron said, in a way Hal could tell he was trying to convince himself as much as others. “And the philosopher’s stone was destroyed.”

“ That was just one way, though.” Hal noted bitterly. “You think if that way was possible, he’s not going to be able to find another? We all know he’s not actually _ dead _ dead.”

As much as the rest of the world wanted to believe so.

“ You should tell someone.” Hermione’s response was so predictable it almost made Hal smile. “Professor McGonagall, or even the Headmaster.”

“I’ve got a meeting with Lupin in ten minutes.” Hal said. “ I’ll tell him.”

The DADA professor had asked him to come after his last  morning  exam,  since he had the rest of the day free, for a final Patronus session –  he couldn’t wait for the weekend as  today was the full moon, so he’d be gone for a few days from the afternoon. Then he’d have exam papers to grade, and the end of the year would roll in, and there simply wouldn’t be a better time to do it.

H ermione seemed satisfied, and Hal made good on his promise by leading with that when he got to Lupin’s office and the man asked him how his exams had gone. It didn’t seem to trigger much alarm or concern.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about her predictions.” He told Hal. “You’re well placed to know, about every day is the end of times according to her.”

“This felt different.” Hal insisted a little, because it had. “The way she spoke… and afterwards she looked like she had no idea what had just happened.”

“I suppose she is known to have made one actual prophecy.” Lupin mused, surprising Hal somewhat, but he didn’t get a chance to ask as Lupin placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll mention it to the Headmaster.” He committed as if to put Hal’s mind at rest. “Shall we get started?”

* *

*

When the sun started to set that evening, Remus had pretty much forgotten all about Harry’s report regarding Sybil’s possible prophecy that the Dark Lord would rise again – you didn’t need to be a Seer to predict that, Albus himself had been saying it for years – through a combination of a rather intense spell-casting practice session (Hal hadn’t quite managed a fully formed Patronus, but some people never did, and the sheer power the kid could produce was truly impressive), a frantic attempt at getting a head-start reading exam papers and a delicious lunch brought directly to his office by an Elf who was rather fond of him and could always tell if he missed a meal. It was only after a fire-call came through that it came back to him.

It was Sirius on the Floo, and Remus  answered with a wide smile, happy to see him, thinking his friend might have wanted to catch him before the full moon and say good luck (they’d mentioned Remus being able to come spend those at Sirius’, but his place wasn’t quite ready yet for the night itself; the offer was on the table for his recovery, but it would be too far for him to make the journey after transforming back ) .  H e quickly sobered down when he saw the look on Sirius’ face.

“What is it?” He prompted.

“Peter.” Sirius replied sombrely.  Remus could already feel the dread spread through his body even before Sirius added: “He’s escaped.”

“How?” He forced the panic down, though it was swelling up rapidly. “When?”

“An hour ago or so.” Sirius said. “I Flooed as soon as I heard.”

“How.” Remus repeated weakly.

“The Aurors are looking into it, but they think he had help.” Sirius reported gravely. “From inside the Ministry.”

“Oh, Merlin.” Remus breathed.

“I wanted to let you know right away.” Sirius said. “They’ll be sending Dementors to Hogwarts, just in case he’s coming after Harry. They don’t think it’s that likely but they don’t want to take the chance.”

“I wouldn’t want to either.”

“I have to go.” Sirius sounded sorry for that. “Kingsley came by to let me know and he’s given me a few minutes to call you, but he needs to bring me in.”

“What?” Remus almost cried out, if he’d only had the energy for that. “Why?”

“They just want to make sure I’m in no way connected to it. Guess they still see us as having been friends, and I do have a record in their eyes even if I’ve been cleared. I should be out soon enough, I just need to show willing.”

“I wish they’d just leave you alone.” Remus admitted.

“You and me both, Moony.” Sirius smiled. “Look,  I know the Dementors will be annoying, but they shouldn’t be there for long. Forty-eight hours at most. They reckon if Pete’s had help, it must be from another Death Eater, so if that’s not their first stop, they probably won’t be coming your way. They think it’s more likely they’ll go join  You-Know-Who directly, wherever he’s hiding.”

Remus closed his eyes briefly, feeling a crushing sense of foreboding. Twelve, barely thirteen years of peace was too short to face the prospect of living through this again.

“I have to go.” Sirius repeated.

“Yeah.” Remus looked up again, forcing a smile for his friend. “You’ll write?”

“As soon as I can.” Sirius promised.

His face disappeared from the fire, and as the dreadful conversation played back through Remus’  mind, he remembered Harry’s  words . A servant becoming free and joining the Dark Lord. The Dark Lord rising again. Merlin almighty, the servant was Peter.

He ran out of his office, heading straight for the Headmaster’s.

* *

*

Hal had been personally informed of Pettigrew’s escape, but they also had to make an announcement to the whole school since Dementors were on their way to once again be posted around the castle.

“Fat lot of good it did them the first time.” Hal grunted.

He hated the idea of being seeing as a target again, as someone who had to be protected. He’d had more than enough of that this year. To the school’s credit, they had upped the security to match the threat – anti-Animagi wards had been added. It wasn't something they could keep up at all times, because it made Professor McGonagall really sick being inside of them, but she could take it for a couple of days for the sake of her students’ safety.

“They don’t even think he’s actually coming this way.” Hal added – this to reassure Ron, who had gone a little grey since hearing the news.

Hal had spoken to Sirius, briefly. His godfather was being questioned at the DMLE, ‘just a precaution’ apparently, but he'd sneaked his his mirror and had managed to quickly contact Hal when he’d been allowed to use the toilet.

“He’s not coming this way.” Draco added with conviction. “This is one of the most protected places in Britain, he can’t be that stupid.”

“I think he probably could be that stupid.” Hal countered. “But he certainly isn’t that bold.”

“One of the most protected places in Britain.” Pan echoed, somewhat scornfully. “Where so far we’ve had, let’s see. A three-headed dog only vaguely kept out of the way. A teacher possessed by the Dark Lord himself. Students getting petrified. A bloody giant Basilisk in the pipes. Another teacher with no qualms about attacking kids. A presumed murderer casually walking in. Exploding cauldrons. An abduction.”

“We get the drift.” Anthony interrupted him.

_And a werewolf_ , Hal added in his head.

As if answering his thought, there was a sudden commotion by the entrance of the Great Hall where they’d stayed back after dinner. It was still the place where they could most easily gather between Houses. The hubbub turned out to be Snape, wand raised and looking alarmed, pushing in a group of students. He gave them some sharp instructions before leaving again, closing the large doors behind him – which was unusual.

One of the new arrivals was Luna, so they went up to her to see what that had been about. Another girl was crying, and the whole group seemed pretty shaken. Before they could ask Luna, however, one of the older students among the newcomers hopped on a table.

“Everyone, listen up!”

The few scattered groups around the Hall gathered up, and when he had people’s attention, the boy carried on in a voice that was only half steady.

“We must stay in this room until further notice.” He told the assembled audience. “Nobody is allowed to get out to the corridors. We stay in, keep the door shut, and stay quiet.”

To the resulting wave of _Whats_ and _Whys_ , he continued, his voice now fully shaking.

“There is a transformed werewolf in the school.” He announced. “They don’t know exactly where.”

As the rest of the Hall erupted in various degrees of panic and bewilderment – how had the beast been able to get in? – Hal and his friends turned to each other in immediate understanding. Lupin. Whatever he usually did to get himself out of the way during the full moon, clearly this time something hadn’t gone to plan.

“Professor Snape is tracking it down and we will be _fine_.” The guy on the table went on. “We just need to stay here, they’re clearing the corridors.”

“What if it comes here?” Someone shrieked. “We should barricade the door!”

“We are not doing that.” The self-appointed leader replied. “We need to be able to let in other students looking for shelter.  In the meantime, don’t make noise so we don’t attract it.  _ If _ the wolf comes this way,  _ then _ we set up  defences.”

Hermione walked up to the table and caught the boy’s attention, obviously eager to do her part if there was anything she could do to help, and they started discussing if the charms that had been in place the previous year (when all students had to be escorted due to the attacks) could easily be reactivated, and would they reach the professors if they needed to call for backup.

Hal, meanwhile, had another idea. He saw how pale Draco had gotten as he fully realised that his godfather was currently roaming the corridors for a werewolf, and as much as the man wasn’t Hal's favourite person, as much as he risked getting one of his most prized possessions confiscated...

“The map.” He offered.

Anthony, Neville and Pan had wandered nearer Hermione and the group of latest arrivals to see what they knew, figure out what exactly was going on and what the plan was, but Ron and Draco turned to him.

“The map?” Ron repeated.

“We need to give Snape, or someone, the Marauder’s Map.” Hal expanded. “So they can find Remus, and maybe no one gets hurt.”

The look on the other two boys’ faces told Hal they immediately saw that it was completely something they should do, and at the same time an absolutely terrible idea.

“We can’t start running around.” Draco immediately said. “I know it’s Lupin and he's a great teacher and we like him, but right now he’s a wild beast, Hal, you know that.”

“You can’t get out there with a werewolf on the loose, mate.” Ron agreed.

“I have the cloak.” Hal said.

He’d taken to always having it in his pocket, even more so since the incident in Hogsmead. Not that it would have prevented his abduction, but somehow it made him feel safer either way.

“It won't stop him from _smelling_ you.” Draco retorted.

“Only if he’s near.” Hal pointed out.

“Which he very well could be!” Draco huffed. “You  wouldn’t  know.”

“No, nobody knows.” Hal insisted. “Which is exactly why we need the Map. The teachers out there might be looking for the wolf, but he’ll be _hunting_ them. Like you said, he can smell them. They need to know where to expect him.”

Draco opened his mouth again, but Hal cut him short.

“There is a werewolf in the school.” He pressed on. “We can hide, and stay quiet and hope he won’t come this way, but how many hours is it till dawn? Someone _will_ get hurt. You know that.” He echoed, challenging.

Ron let out a little whine. “I hate it when you’re right.”

“You guys stay here.” Hal told them. “I'll go straight to the dorm-”

“Like hell.” Draco interrupted. “I'm not sitting here not knowing what in Avalon is happening to you. Not again.”

Hal had a sudden urge to kiss him, the words  _ I like you  _ echoing in his mind again, and he forced himself to clamp it down  when he abruptly realised he may very well rather like Draco that way too. But now was not the time.  He focused on planning their next steps.

“Okay, we both go, we can cover each other’s back. Sorry, mate.” He added, turning to Ron. “But if we want to stay under the cloak...”

Ron huffed, between amusement and derision.

“I like how you assume I also volunteer for this.” He noted. “Which would make you right again, by the way.” He added with a sigh.

Hal gave him a smile and squeezed his shoulder. Ron was not reckless, like Hal could be. He was  understandably scared and cautious when dangerous situations arose, he didn't run on raw magic and instinct as Hal did when he was  frightened . But that only made his decisions to go forward and do the right thing braver.

“Okay.” Hal nodded. “So, we make our way quickly to the dorm, grab the map, use to see where the nearest teacher is, go give it to them, take cover wherever makes more sense. We’ll come back here if possible, but don’t worry if we don’t, we’ll stay away if it’s safer.”

Ron looked like he didn’t really like the idea of that, but he nodded.

“Right.” Hal took a determined breath, as he pulled out the Invisibility Cloak. “Ready?”

“Wait.” Ron suddenly said, a look of epiphany on his face. “Hermione!”

Hal grunted at the call. They didn’t need to tell Hermione! She would probably try to talk them out of it – and fair enough, part of Hal did kind of want to be talked out of it, but it was the right thing to do.

Ron, however, turned back to them excitedly, clearly not having just called their friend for the sake of it.

“The Time-Turner!” He said in a fevered whisper. “We can just go back!”

“Go back to what?” Hal asked, thrown by the sudden change of plan and not quite putting the puzzle pieces together.

“Lupin’s been handling his full moons for a whole school year.” Ron demonstrated. “And suddenly he’s gone off the rails, just the day we hear Pettigrew escaped? I don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

He had a point, Hal recognised. There actually was a high likelihood the disruption of Lupin’s usual full moon  precautions and the worrisome news were related.

“So we go back a bit.” Ron re-established. “We warn him, and make sure he doesn’t, I don’t know, get all upset and forget the time, whatever he’s done here.”

They paused for a moment, thinking about it, but it really was a bit of a no-brainer, now that Ron had come up with the idea.

“Strangely.” Draco eventually commented. “While this involves breaking the law, it seems a much better plan than chancing the corridors right now.”

Nodding eagerly, Ron called Hermione again, several times in fact before he finally managed to get her attention.

“I was having an important conversation.” She complained when he dragged her back. “We need to-”

“Do you have the Time-Turner  with you?” Ron interrupted her.

She looked startled, but only for a fleeting moment before her brain caught up.

“You want to go back?”

Ron repeated his idea and plan for her benefit, grassing on Hal while he was at it to put more weight behind it. As Hal had suspected, Hermione gave him a look that seemed to say  _ This is the stupidest plan I’ve ever heard of, I can’t believe you were going to do that, you reckless idiot, were a troll, three-headed dog, evil maniac and Basilisk not enough for you _ .

“Do you have it?” Ron asked of Hermione again.

She pulled a thin golden chain free of her collar, and dragged it out until she revealed the object.

“Always on me.” She confirmed. “I don’t want to leave it unattended anywhere.”

“Thank Merlin.” Ron grinned.

They talked it through for several minutes, re-explaining things when Neville, Pan  (whom they caught up on having figured out their professor was a werewolf, and in this situation,  _ the _ werewolf) and Anthony joined them – how far back they needed to land, who would go, the  imperative  need to be extremely careful. This Hermione really hammered in; they needed to be discreet using it, because whoever did would disappear from the middle of the Great Hall  (something they were confident they could hide between the rest of them) but there also  would be  serious consequences if, during the time travel, they weren’t cautious.

“ Well.” Hal finally reached the only sensible conclusion. “We know where he was around lunchtime, I was with him, but that’s too early.” Five hours were the limit for the use of the Time Turner to remain safe, Hermione had explained. “We also know where he was at sunset.”

Sirius had told him he’d fire-called Lupin in his office, not long before he contacted Hal. It would be cutting it a bit short, it being so close to nightfall and the transformation, but it was safer to aim for a time they were sure where to find him, and hopefully would still leave Lupin with enough time to sort himself out.

With further discussion, they decided to aim roughly for an hour before sunset – it wouldn’t be exact anyway. Since they’d transport to the place they’d leave from, in this case the Great Hall, it should be calculatedly empty (OWLs and NEWTs were over, and the exams for other years were held in smaller rooms around the castle). The plan was also to leave themselves time to first go to Hal’s trunk to get the Marauder’s Map, which would help both avoid meeting their other self and find Lupin in the event he wasn’t in his office like they thought he would be, and would be handy to have if it turned out the whole ‘werewolf on the loose’ situation couldn’t be avoided.

Hal  started  argu ing that he should be the one going,  but  Hermione made the point that the Time Turner was her responsibility; only she had been given permission to use it on account of her good judgement, so she believed she had to be operating it. And then there was Draco, for whom the change of plans hadn’t made a difference to his earlier sentiment: he was not letting Hal out of his sight to go and meet danger.

“ We can’t all go.” Hermione assessed. “The more of us there are, the riskier it will be.”

“You can’ t go on your own.” Hal replied. “You won’t be able to get in the boys’ dorm.”

They were spelled that way.

“You’re not going on your own either.” Draco imposed, glaring at Hal as if daring him to suggest otherwise.

Hal felt the urge to kiss him again, and this really was something he’d need to deal with when out of immediate and horrifying danger.

“ I was in the greenhouse.” Neville suddenly said. He shuffled from one foot to the other when they all turned to him. “For most of the afternoon, I was in the greenhouse.” He explained. “So I’m unlikely to cross paths with myself.”

The rest of them,  admittedly ,  did not remember minute by minute where they had been; they were moving about  at the time , enjoying their freedom after the exams were done – all except for Hermione who had twice the amount to take, teachers had arranged for her to have her own exam schedule so she could sit all the electives. Which made her safely out of the way, too. Neville and Hermione looked at each other, and everyone knew this was the best combination.

Hal held the small bundle that was the Invisibility Cloak out to Neville.

“ Do we need that?” Neville looked a little alarmed.

“Maybe not.” Hal admitted. “But it can’t hurt to have it, right?”

Neville nodded, both nervous and determined, and pocketed the silky fabric. The group exchanged quick hugs and notices to  _ Be safe _ , and within a few minutes, Hermione and Neville were gone in a small cloud of golden dust.

* *

*

“ That felt weird.” Neville commented when they reappeared in the Great Hall, sun still shining through the enchanted ceiling.

He swallowed a few times, feeling like his ears needed to pop.

“You get used to it.” Hermione said. “Alright,  best not hang around. We should n’t meet ourselves, but let’s also try to stay away from other people.”

They had no problems doing  that; the corridors weren’t empty, far from it, but everyone was going about their own business, in that excited state typical of the end of the year, and nobody paid attention. They reached the Gryffindor common room easily enough, and while Neville encountered Dean and Seamus plotting in the dorm (something to do with fireworks that they wanted to throw on the last day of term), they didn’t call him out for going through Hal’s trunk and he left with the map unbothered.

B ack downstairs, he and Hermione quickly looked at it, relieved to find that Professor Lupin was in his office, though they had been expecting it. Hermione cast a quick  _ Tempus  _ charm, and calculated they still had at least half an hour before he got the news about Peter. Seeing no point in wasting any of that time, they made their way straight there.

“Oh, hello.” Lupin looked rather surprised to see them when he opened to their knock on the door.

“Professor, we need to talk to you.” Hermione announced immediately.

Something in her tone made him frown, and he stepped aside to let them in.

“What is it?” He asked, then seemed to realise it was still only late afternoon. “I thought you had exams till late, Miss Granger.”

“I do.” She replied. “I’m taking them right now.”

The teacher frowned in confusion, but as he was aware of the Time-Turner, he quickly put two and two together.

“What is so important that you had to be here as well?” He prompted.

“Peter Pettigrew has escaped from the Ministry.” Neville was the one to answer, cutting to the chase.

Lupin visibly paled as he turned to the boy.

“Sorry, what?”

“You would have heard in a little bit.” Hermione picked up the narrative. “Sirius calls you, and he’s managed to tell Hal, too. Everyone knows soon after that,  anyway, that’s not the problem.”

“That’s not the problem?” Lupin repeated, shocked. “Peter escapes and that’s not the problem?”

“No.” She continued firmly. “The problem is, it’s a full moon, and later in the evening, there is a transformed werewolf inside the school.”

The man went paler if that was even possible.

“We know it’s you.” Neville added softly. “We figured it out quite early in the year, we didn’t want to say anything, it’s your own business, but…”

“But tonight you get upsetting news, and you must have forgotten your usual safety measures, because… well, like I said.” Hermione finished with an apologetic twist of her lips.

“Oh, Merlin.” Lupin breathed.  His eyes widened then, as if he was remembering something. “Oh, Merlin.” He repeated. “Harry said something about Sybil Trelawney making a prophecy…”

“Oh, yeah.” Neville suddenly recalled as well. “He mentioned that.”

“The servant.” Hermione whispered. “Oh my god, it’s true?” She looked up at their Professor in alarm. “Peter is the servant? The Dark Lord will rise again?”

She was looking for reassurance, for the answer to be  _ No, of course not _ , but as Lupin stood still, silent and pale, they all realised how likely it had just become that Trelawney’s prediction was actually real.

“Shit.” Neville let out.

“Okay.” Lupin took a  steeling  breath, as if he’d had to forcibly remind himself he was the adult in the room and needed to offer some sort of reliability. “Okay, I can see how that would have… disrupted me. I usually…” He took another breath, like he was thinking  _ Oh, fuck it _ , while still being shocked he could openly tell them this. “There is a potion Professor Snape developed, Wolfsbane. He brings it to me before the full moon and it keeps the wolf tame, so I usually just lock myself up in my office and I’m able to wait out the transformation that way. I can only assume I was too distracted to take it, and  _ it _ got out.”

Neville didn’t miss the way he was dissociating himself from  _ the wolf _ , as if they were two different entities. He supposed in a way, they were. It was a testament to the fact Remus Lupin was a good man, and for the first time, he wondered how he’d become a werewolf. He felt sorry for him.

“ Well.” Hermione punctuated satisfactorily. “That’s what we’re here to prevent. Hal was prepared to go out and do something rash again…”

“What?” Lupin looked alarmed again.

“Well, the school was pretty much put on lockdown.” Neville explained. “Obviously, we were told to stay where we were and make as little noise as possible and all that. But the teachers were out looking for you – I’m guessing now, Sn- Professor Snape must have come to bring you your potion, and realise the danger when he didn’t find you.”

Lupin winced, presumably seeing nothing to say against the likelihood of that scenario.

“Anyway, Hal figured the danger would be a lot less if they could know where you were.” Neville continued. “So he wanted to go and get the Map.”

“The Map?”

“The Marauders Map.” Hermione specified. “We also know it’s you – the Marauders. You and the others, Hal’s dad, Sirius…”

Peter was left unsaid, it didn’t seem worth bringing up the name.

“ Now  that  you remind me.” Lupin said, looking somewhere between fond and exasperated. “Sirius did mention Harry somehow ended up with the Map. I don’t particularly condone it, by the way. As a member of the faculty.”

Neville snorted. “You don’t really have a leg to stand on, though.” He pointed out.

“Which is why I let it go.” Lupin smiled.

He sobered up, then, and brought them back to the (multi-faceted) problem at hand.

“The Headmaster should know about this prophecy.” He said.

“And that might be why you ran off.” Hermione surmised. She cast another  _ Tempus _ . “Sirius should be calling you in about ten minutes.” She said. “Just wait for his call, and then  _ stay here _ , have your potion and lock yourself in. Sir.” She added with a blush, realising she was just casually giving orders to a teacher.

Lupin had a faint smile. “Ever the brightest witch in the room, Miss Granger.” He complimented her. “You’re right, of course. I can Floo Albus. Give him  notice of  my resignation while I’m at it.”

“What?” Both Hermione and Neville reacted.

“ I have to, don’t I?” He said sadly. “This is unacceptable.”

“But you’re the best teacher we’ve ever had!” Hermione protested.

“And nothing happened.” Neville pointed out.

“But it was going to.” Lupin replied. “And I truly appreciate what you two have done to prevent it – and what you have just said, Hermione,  it means a lot to me. B ut the fact remains that it’s clearly not as safe as I thought for me to be here. I cannot in good conscience stay, not when I know what almost occurred tonight. I could have killed someone. I could have  _ bitten _ someone.”

The second prospect seemed wors e to him than the first, which on reflection, maybe it was –  especially if that someone had happened to be a child . Neville felt another pang of sadness for what this kind man must have been through.

“ We will miss you.” Hermione said in a small voice, realistic about the fact that he was right, he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t come this close to disaster.

O verstepping, maybe, though not surprisingly given how the last few moments had brought them together, he hugged them both.

* *

*

Hermione and Neville found themselves in the weird situation where they had to tell the rest of their friends of their successful mission while the group had absolutely no idea of the state of mind they had been in – they were all upset after hearing about Peter, but since the situation hadn’t escalated to include a potential rampage, it wasn’t quite with the same sense of imminent danger. They believed them, of course, and hung on to every word as they told their tale, but it clearly was more entertaining to them than it was scary.

Draco still punched Hal in the arm, picking up an important point in the story.

“I can’t  _ believe _ you were going to run out towards danger again.”  He berated him.

“I was going to do it for the greater good!” Hal protested.

“Can’t you think of  _ your _ good sometimes?” Draco argued.  _ And my sanity _ , he didn’t add. “Bloody Gryffindor, you are.”

“ You’re welcome, then.” Ron intervened.

They both looked at him with some confusion, to which he grinned, failing in his attempt to appear modest.

“Sounds like I saved you from yourself with my better idea.” He pointed out.

There was a brief pause, and Draco nodded. “He’s right.” He told Hal. “You should listen to your friends.”

“I do listen to you.” Hal rolled his eyes. “Even when you’re talking shit, which is most of the time.”

“Oy.” Ron objected mildly.

“ It’s a shame Professor Lupin is leaving, though.” Draco changed the subject. “He really was good.”

“Another one bites the dust.” Anthony commented.

He got a few confused looks and had to explain it was from a song, which led to an argument about Muggle music – far superior, Hal, Anthony and even Hermione agreed. As well as Pan, recently converted through his stays at the Goldsteins.

“So.” Blaise cut through the dispute at one point. “Shall we start a betting pool for which one of you will end up injured in the hospital wing first, next year?”

They all just rolled their eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it’s a wrap! And, I am afraid, the start of a hiatus of undetermined length for me.
> 
> At first I was going to include a way for Hal to encounter a Dementor and succeed in casting his stag Patronus, but I couldn’t think of a momentous enough way of doing it, then ran out of time because I’m giving birth tomorrow. Might be something I add if I come back to polish this fic later!
> 
> Woopsie doops, they went back in time and changed things so Hal never had the realisation he wanted to kiss Draco and officially like him back. Afraid it’ll take him a little longer to get there! But don’t you worry, it is most definitely in the cards. In fact, since I don’t know when I’ll be able to write Book 4, let alone the rest of it, here is a long-term spoiler to soothe your soul in the meantime: they will get married one day. Because neither of them have a father, they will ask their respective godfathers to give them away. There will be wedding planning involved. Sirius and Severus will have to get along. It will be epic.
> 
> Thanks for reading, comments will definitely reach me even if I don’t answer or post for a while, so feel free to leave plenty! Love to all.


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